


there's a light at the crack that's separating your thighs

by voxofthevoid



Series: in this story, you have claws [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animalistic Sex, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dominance and Submission, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Knotting, M/M, Marathon Sex, Masochism, Mild Blood, Monsterfuckers Inc, No Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Prayer Circle for Bucky's Asshole, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sadism, Spit As Lube, Tender Sexual Mauling, Werewolf Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21018236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: Steve likes to run through the forest as it wakes up, but he also likes waking Bucky up by fucking him through the mattress. He gripes about his terrible dilemma incessantly, and Bucky gives him so much shit for it, but that doesn’t stop him from grumbling when he opens his eyes to an empty bed.He sulks through the morning, even after Steve comes bounding back on all fours. He hasn’t dragged a corpse with him this time, but his muzzle is bloody, and when he shifts back to human form, half his face is covered in blood.Bucky glowers.“Go shower.”Steve grins, unbearably adorable despite his bloody teeth. There seems to be bits of flesh stuck in between.That’s a mouth Bucky kisses on the regular.Steve, the naked asshole, bounces off to the bathroom with a spring in his step that’s eerily similar to the way he gets after he fucks Bucky within an inch of his life. No one should be made to compete for their lover’s affections with an entire forest, but here Bucky is, glaring after his big dumb werewolf boyfriend and feeling simultaneously irritated and horny.-Three times Steve and Bucky almost get caught having sex, and the one time the Avengers walk in on them.





	1. you thought that you were the boss tonight (but i can put up one good fight)

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t the Steve-and-Bucky at Avengers Tower sequel I thought I’d write, except in all the ways it is.
> 
> You can [find me here](https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two fingers push into him without warning, and Bucky arches off the floor, crying out. He’s open and so fucking loose from Steve’s cock, and Steve knows it, is fucking happy about it, judging by the way his angry growl turns into something lower and pleased. There’s the sound of him spitting and some slick, familiar noises. Bucky’s heart is in his throat and he’s prepared for it when Steve fucks back into him, but it still makes him claw at the floor and mewl like an alley cat.

The day starts out good.

Steve’s not in bed when Bucky wakes up, but he’s got hazy memories of being kissed and petted a little before Steve’s warmth vanished from his side. And really, it’s fifty-fifty whether he’ll wake up alone on any given morning. Steve likes to run through the forest as it wakes up, but he also likes waking Bucky up by fucking him through the mattress. He gripes about his terrible dilemma incessantly, and Bucky gives him so much shit for it, but that doesn’t stop him from grumbling when he wakes to an empty bed.

He sulks through the morning, even – especially – after Steve comes bounding back on all fours. He hasn’t dragged a corpse with him this time, but his muzzle is bloody, and when he shifts back to human form, half his face is covered in blood.

Bucky glowers.

“Shower.”

It’s not a suggestion. Steve gives him a grin that’s unbearably adorable despite his bloody teeth. There seems to be bits of flesh stuck in between. That’s a mouth Bucky kisses on the regular.

What the everloving fuck is his life?

Steve, the naked asshole, bounces off to the bathroom with a spring in his step that’s eerily similar to the way he gets after he fucks Bucky within an inch of his life. No one should be made to compete for their lover’s affections with an entire forest, but here Bucky is, glaring after his big dumb werewolf boyfriend and feeling simultaneously irritated and horny.

He spent literal decades without sex and didn’t give a fuck because he had other things to be concerned about, like torture, brainwashing, and basic survival. But Steve Rogers is back in his life, dicking him down on the regular, and suddenly, Bucky’s morning is ruined if he doesn’t wake up with a knot in his ass.

Thinking of Steve’s knot isn’t _helping_, and Bucky shifts uncomfortably as he returns his attention to the batter. He’s got a sizeable stack of pancakes plated and is finishing up by the time Steve returns from his shower, smelling of soap and something wilder. Bucky clenches up instinctively at the scent, an exquisite mixture of fear and desire. The animal part of him recognizes a predator, but the rest of Bucky just wants to Steve to rub that smell all over him, stake his claim.

The situation in Bucky’s pants devolves into a Situation, and he’s glad that he opted for sweats and not a pair of briefs. He’s trying to sulk here, and Steve makes it hard enough without Bucky’s own body visibly turning against him.

Case in point – a large, warm body plasters itself to his back, tree-trunk arms wrapping around Bucky’s middle.

Instead of melting back against Steve the way he usually does, Bucky stands stiff and huffs a little, fussing unnecessarily with his pancakes.

“Baby,” Steve croons, his tone dripping with genuine affection. He doesn’t play fair, the fucker, and Bucky’s insides won’t quite squirming. “Are you mad at me?”

“You know what you did, Steven.”

Steve mouths at his neck, nibbling oh-so-gently on the skin. Bucky’s mind stutters to a halt.

Steve nips his way up his throat, breathing hot and open-mouthed against that spot just under his ear that drives Bucky mad every fucking time. Bucky manages, somehow, to turn off the stove before he sets the cabin on fire. And just in time too; Steve sinks his teeth into that spot, and Bucky’s knees buckle.

He's pulled hard against Steve, and it’s no accident, the way Steve’s supporting arm creeps down to splay over Bucky’s bare belly, right above his tented pants.

“Let me make it up to you, sweetheart.”

“Christ. Fuck you, god.”

“Mm, that’s the–”

“Don’t say it, Steve!”

“–idea,” Steve finishes, pressing his grin against Bucky’s cheek.

And because Bucky’s a sucker for pretty blue eyes and a sunshine smile, he lets himself be coaxed into a kiss. To be fair, Steve’s lips plead his case convincingly, moving sweetly against Bucky’s until he sighs and opens up, then licking inside with unbridled hunger.

Bucky’s panting when they break apart, and he can feel Steve’s erection pressing insistently into his ass.

“Hands off. Some of us gotta eat.”

Steve’s breakfast habits also depend on whether he stayed in bed to wake Bucky up with his lecherous ministrations or fucked off to pee on trees and howl with his wolves. When he’s home, he’ll eat whatever Bucky puts in front of him, easily matching and often overtaking his supersoldier appetite. When he’s out, well – he comes back with blood on his teeth. There was that one time the blood was from Hydra agents and not unsuspecting wildlife, but that’s hardly cause for complaint.

Today, Steve just leans on the counter and creepily watches Bucky wolf down – _hah_ – his pancakes.

Bucky doesn’t squirm on the seat and he definitely doesn’t give up halfway through to jump Steve the way his dick’s begging him to. He’s got the thin shards of his dignity to preserve, and anyway, Steve deserves some quality time with his blue balls.

It’s a close damn call though.

By the time Bucky’s sopping up the last of the syrup with a bit of pancake and licking it off his fingers unnecessarily slowly, Steve’s eyes are more black than blue, and there’s an impressive bulge in his trousers.

Bucky’s smug and not hiding it as he goes to do the dishes. Well, he tries to do the dishes, but he gets as far as dumping them in the sink and washing his hands before he’s grabbed from behind and spun around into a kiss that makes his toes curl. Steve paws at him shamelessly, squeezing Bucky’s pecs and then sliding lower, tracing the muscles of his abdomen before grabbing generous handfuls of his ass.

Bucky tears away from the kiss, panting like he’s run a hundred miles.

“Jesus fuck, Steve.”

Steve smirks, eyeing Bucky like he’d like to take a bite out of him.

“Said I’d make it up to you, sweetheart.”

Before Bucky can answer, he’s being kissed again and walked backwards out of the corner that makes up the kitchen. He expects to be thrown on the couch, but Steve just drops them unceremoniously on the floor. Well, the rug, but it’s hardly more comfortable. The old, scratchy thing came with the cabin, and Bucky’s not on it for more than two seconds before he’s thinking of all the uncomfortable places where he’ll get rugburn.

“Animal,” he complains, shoving ineffectually at Steve. He doesn’t even have the decency to budge at the force, and that goes straight to Bucky’s dick too because he’s easy that way.

“You like it,” Steve rumbles, already mouthing his way down Bucky’s throat.

Bucky’s answer gets lost between the thrilling sting of blooming bruises and the wet heat of Steve’s mouth. His neck and chest are varying shades of pink and red by the time Steve comes up for air. Bucky gasps raggedly as he admires the view, distracted all too soon by Steve’s red, red lips closing around one peaked nipple. He arches up into it, but Steve pushes him back down, punctuating the restraint with his teeth sharp around the sensitive nub. Bucky grits his teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of tearing a scream out of him, not yet.

He can’t stay quiet for long, not when Steve bites and licks and sucks on his nipples until they’re red and swollen, and then plays with them some more, mouth on one and hand on the other, nipping and tugging until Bucky’s whimpering incessantly and raking his nails down Steve’s arms.

By the time Steve’s had his fill of that brand of torment, Bucky’s chest is heaving and his cock is hard enough to pound nails with. It doesn’t escape Steve’s notice. He’s quick to divest Bucky off his pants and even quicker to shuck his own scrap of clothing.

Steve brightens visibly once they’re both naked, going so far as to lick his lips as he eyes Bucky’s dick like it’s a seven-course meal. It gets Bucky right in the gut too, everything twisting up hot and tight.

Steve doesn’t pause to make him beg; he just dives right in, slithering down Bucky’s body to slide his mouth over his cock. Bucky’s hips jerk up, an instinct that’s denied by Steve’s hands clamping down hard on either side and pinning him to the cheap rug as he takes his sweet damn time sucking Bucky’s cock.

Controlling, demanding _asshole_, and fuck if Bucky doesn’t love him to death.

Steve stops with his mouth halfway down Bucky’s dick, then pulls off, ever so slowly, dragging his tongue up the underside. Bucky watches as much as he can bear, then drops his head and stares dazedly at the ceiling, tension thrumming through his body as Steve mercilessly winds him tighter. Teasing licks around the head gets him drooling precum like a bust pipe, and Steve licks him clean. His tongue laps at the slit, the tip squirming inside the foreskin, and Bucky shudders violently, something electric bolting up his spine.

And then Steve’s taking him deep again, and this time, he doesn’t stop until Bucky’s buried all the way down his throat and crying out at the constricting heat.

Steve swallows around him a few times, hands still tight on Bucky’s hips to keep him pinned. Bucky writhes anyway, can’t help it with Steve’s throat and tongue working him over in turns. He’s near the edge all too soon, yanking at Steve’s hair to warn him. Steve hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t take his mouth off Bucky, and that’s all the permission he needs to let go.

“_Steve_,” Bucky gasps as his climax washes through him, everything made more intense by Steve’s mouth sucking him through it. Bucky clings to his hair and clenches his thighs around Steve’s head, trembling through his orgasm.

Steve suckles softly at Bucky’s soft cock, making him whine, and pulls off, letting it slip from his mouth. It’s a filthy sight, and Bucky shudders to see it, a fresh wave of arousal sweeping through him.

“Better?” Steve asks, hovering over Bucky with a crooked grin.

Bucky blinks and tries to reassemble his brain cells.

“Huh?”

Steve’s grin widens like that’s exactly the answer he wanted.

He shifts so he’s kneeling between Bucky’s legs, a golden mountain of a man. Bucky stares. It’s still hard to believe he’s real sometimes, that all of this isn’t just some pleasant dying dream his brain cooked up with its last firing neurons, that his real body isn’t stuck somewhere in a malfunctioning cryo chamber. But then, what does it matter? If he’s dying and this is a dream, it’s the sweetest one.

Though he has trouble imagining why this would be what his desperate mind clings to; it would make more sense to go back to 1930s Brooklyn and the last years in which Bucky remembers being truly, uncomplicatedly happy before war crept into his banal world and tore him away from Steve.

“Buck,” Steve says, and dream or not, his voice is a siren call Bucky’s helpless to resist.

“Yeah?”

Steve’s eyes crinkle around a smile, soft and brimming with affection instead of the lustful smirks of before. Oh, the lust is there in his dark gaze and flushed cock, but it’s something sweeter that’s peering down at Bucky.

“You good?”

Bucky figures now’s not the time to dump his sometimes-complicated relationship with reality on Steve. And if the lube he’s now gripping – likely retrieved from its permanent resting place between the couch cushions – is any indication, then Steve’s all set to prove his solidness anyway.

“I’m perfect,” Bucky says, returning Steve’s smile.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You are.”

It’s an utterly predictable response and cheesy to boot, but Bucky’s heart still skips a beat.

“C’mere,” Steve says, extending a hand for Bucky to grip. He doesn’t need it, but he grabs it anyway, letting himself be yanked upright into a searing kiss. He mumbles Steve’s name into his mouth and has it kissed right off his lips. Steve tastes like come but underneath, he tastes like himself, clean and warm, unique but beyond words.

Steve moves them without warning, and it’s testament to how much Bucky trusts him that he just throws both arms around him and clings as gravity shifts abruptly. They end up with Bucky on top, sprawled across Steve bulk. He braces his hands on Steve’s obscenely defined pecs and rises so he’s straddling his thighs. His disapproving glare is met with a charming grin that Bucky should really build up an immunity to. It’s not a smile the little punk from Brooklyn ever whipped out. This one’s all this new Steve, the one with a past Bucky was as conspicuously absent from as Steve was from the Winter Soldier’s life.

Fair’s fair, he thinks.

“Hey.” Steve reaches for him, sliding his knuckles along Bucky’s cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re thinking again.”

“Some of us have a working brain, you big lump of fur.

Steve laughs, and the sound falls like the gentlest rain on Bucky’s skin. He closes his eyes and basks in it, shivering when Steve drags his knuckles along his face again, then down his throat too, stopping at the base to press his thumb against Bucky’s hammering pulse.

“Am I forgiven?” Steve asks, and Bucky doesn’t need to open his eyes to know he’s smiling.

“Asshole,” is all Bucky says, but he’s smiling too.

Steve presses the lube into his hands, and Bucky opens his eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. Steve smile turns suspiciously innocent.

“I wanna watch,” he says, and the bittersweet thrum of Bucky’s heart folds under the sudden onslaught of need. He flicks the cap open eagerly and is about to squirt some on his right hand when Steve adds, “The other hand, Buck.”

Bucky makes a startled noise, staring wide-eyed at Steve who looks back calmly, expectantly.

“Pervert,” Bucky grumbles, valiantly ignoring the sudden heat on his cheeks. “That a thing now?”

Steve just shrugs.

“I’m curious. It’s part of you.”

“So’s my feet, but you don’t want me to fuck myself on my toes.”

“Aw, baby, I’ve kissed your feet plenty of times and you know it. ‘Sides, you’re flexible, but you’re not that flexible.”

Bucky starts giggling even as he obediently slicks up his left hand. Zola and Karpov would shit kittens if they could see this, their greatest weapon giggling gleefully as he prepares to ride werewolf dick. The thought just makes him laugh harder, and under him, Steve’s smiling in that way he has when he has no clue why the fuck Bucky’s losing his shit but is absolutely gone for it anyway.

Because he loves Bucky, loved him until he died and afterward, and then again when he found him, and god, that’s a hell of a thing.

“You’re the best part of my life,” Bucky blurts out, and it’s a vision, the way Steve’s face melts into something real and heartbreaking.

“And you’re mine,” he returns easily, with such tender conviction that Bucky doesn’t dare think it’s a rote response.

Bucky leans in for a kiss that Steve gives gladly, and Bucky stays like that, flat over Steve’s chest and breathing against his mouth, as he reaches behind himself with lubed metal fingers to rub at his hole. It’s cold, the lube and metal both, and that makes him laugh too, a breathless chuckle that pulls a questioning noise out of Steve. Bucky shakes his head and kisses him again before sitting up, pressing firmly down on his fingers as he does.

One slides in easy. Bucky’s used to doing this with his left hand, and there’s no novelty in it for him except in Steve’s reaction. As promised, Steve is watching Bucky’s fingers vanish into him, lips parted and wet from quick, maddening darts of his tongue. He’s not surprised when Steve snakes a hand behind him and idly traces the rim and up along Bucky’s wrist. He keeps doing it, trailing fingers in between cool metal and heated flesh, and it wrecks Bucky more than the stretch can ever hope to.

When Bucky adds a second finger, Steve groans right along with him.

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs just because he can.

“Buck, sweetheart, look at you.”

Bucky bites his lips and angles his fingers for better friction. He fucks himself faster, and Steve’s hand is clamped on his wrist now, not doing anything but holding on. Bucky knows him, though, knows that won’t last long, and sure enough, no sooner than he adds a third finger does Steve tighten his grip and drag his fingers out until just the tips are inside Bucky.

“Bossy bastard,” Bucky insults fondly.

Steve’s answering smirk is all dark promise.

He moves Bucky’s hand for him, not that he needs more than the gentlest suggestion of pressure to make Bucky obey. Steve’s pace varies from harsh, shallow thrusts to slow, dragging pulls that make Bucky whine in the back of his throat.

And when Steve takes his hand away, the noise that escapes Bucky is pitiful and downright embarrassing.

Steve hushes him with a smile, waving the lube he grabbed before reaching over to squirt some over Bucky’s hole. The chill of it makes him hiss, and Steve makes another soothing noise before dropping another dollop of it on the fingers Bucky’s got half-buried in himself.

“Another,” Steve says, kissing Bucky fast and hard on the mouth.

“Don’t need it,” Bucky protests, partly for the hell of it.

“You want my knot, you take that finger.”

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Bucky groans, the sound punched out of him. He listens, of course, he listens. He’s a damn slut for that knot, and Steve knows it, has taken shameless advantage of it since their first time in these new lives left Bucky with a very blatant taste for being fucked full and plugged up for hours.

Bucky takes his sweet time with it, and it’s only a little because he wants to drive Steve mad. Mostly, it’s just a hell of a stretch, easing in a fourth finger a whole different ordeal than Steve’s knot stretching him open from the inside. Steve helpfully pets along Bucky’s thighs as he rubs and prods at his hole. It’s distracting, the heat of him like a brand on Bucky’s skin.

Then he’s wrapping his hand around Bucky’s wrist again, not moving it, just applying steady pressure, and that’s almost worse. Bucky grits his teeth and presses inside, keening brokenly at the sharp burn of it.

Steve strokes his face and makes shushing noises, but his hand’s tight around Bucky’s wrist, thumb pressed to where his pulse would be if that arm had one.

“Fuck, fucking – _Steve_,” Bucky gasps once his little finger is in all the way to the knuckle. His fingers are bunched together to ease the stretch, but it burns like a bitch anyway, sparking up his spine with each helpless twitch of his muscles. Steve’s no help, tracing his rim with a featherlight touch that still scorches the skin.

“Yeah,” he breathes, mouth parted against Bucky’s throat. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

And Bucky fucking melts at that, but he tries to hide it, thumping his free hand on Steve’s chest instead. He regrets it when the motion makes him shift and clench around his fingers, the curse on his tongue evaporating as he moans long and good.

Steve makes a low, rumbling sound that Bucky’s come to recognize as lust-drunk approval.

“Enough,” Steve says, and Bucky has just enough time to register what he said before Steve’s grip on his wrist tightens and _pulls_. Bucky yelps as his fingers are yanked out of him, leaving him hollow and aching, but Steve just presses his own fingers to Bucky’s gaping hole and smiles like the wolf he is. “Look at that. Could just sink right down on me, couldn’t you?”

The words hook into Bucky’s gut and tugs viciously, but he forces his facial features into the shape of a frown.

“Asshole,” he manages, scraping his nails down Steve’s chest, catching a perky nipple. Steve’s answering hiss is very satisfying. “You’re a pain in my ass, Steve.”

Steve gives him a crooked smirk that’s both fond and challenging.

“I’m about to be.”

Bucky closes his eyes. He did walk into that one.

Steve guides Bucky’s left arm forward, leading it to brace on his chest along with the other one. Bucky curls his fingers into his skin and watches hungrily as Steve takes over the work, slicking himself up and grasping Bucky’s hips to move him where he wants him.

Bucky groans at the blunt pressure of Steve’s cockhead pressing against him, and it turns into a shuddering cry when it pushes inside him, slow but inexorable. He feels every fucking inch of it, panting as his body fights to yield for that searing stretch. Steve just doesn’t stop, pulling desperate noises out of Bucky as he slides in and in and _in_, until flesh slots into flesh and they’re joined as deeply as they can be. Bucky’s a heaving wreck atop Steve, and Steve’s quiet but flushed all the way down his neck, eyes a luminous blue as he looks at Bucky like he wants to devour him whole.

“The way you feel,” Steve whispers, in a tone that can only be called reverent. “I’ll never get used to this.”

Bucky has to try a few times before his voice cooperates.

“Hopin’ you will, pal. Kinda plan to do this often enough.”

Steve grins sharply, the expression predatory for a moment before it softens into something like awe.

“Maybe I don’t want to. Get used to it. Ain’t ever taking you for granted again, Bucky Barnes.”

And Bucky doesn’t know what to do with that, but his heart flips over in his chest, racing for a whole other reason.

“You never did,” he says, and it’s the joint pulse of their bodies that makes his voice hoarse, but it’s something else entirely that turns it solemn.

“I did,” Steve disagrees, reaching up to stroke Bucky’s face, fingertips that were bruising on his hip mere moments ago now devastatingly tender on his cheek. “Thought we’d have forever. Death do us part, but not like that. Together.”

Bucky shudders, mouth falling open on a gasp. He can’t make himself say it, but all he can think is that he did too, that stupid kid who promised the end of the line and dreamed of growing old with his best friend.

And maybe he doesn’t need to because Steve’s coaxing him down and into a kiss that’s wet and sweet. Bucky tries to say it all with his lips and tongue, and Steve moans softly like he can taste the words in him. When they part, Bucky pushes himself back up, driving himself back into Steve’s cock as he does. It still burns, but he likes it, fucking loves it, and aches to be fucked so hard he’ll be limping even with the serum trying to erase all his bruises.

He wants to live a lifetime with Steve carved into his flesh.

Bucky’s prepared for it when Steve bucks his hips, but that doesn’t make the sensation any less shattering. Bucky cries out, loud and shameless, and Steve does it again, hands back on Bucky’s hips to keep him steady for him to fuck into. He doesn’t pull out much, just enough that Bucky’s hole will twitch and try to tug him back in, hungry and eager for it. Bucky’s the same, head thrown back and nails biting into Steve’s chest as he rides the motion, just letting himself be moved to the rhythm of Steve’s hips.

But Steve just keeps bucking and grinding a little, and one glowering glance is all it takes for Bucky to see that he’s _playing_ with him, teeth bared in an animal grin as he stares up at Bucky.

_Asshole_, Bucky almost says again, but his mouth opens on a keening cry instead as Steve shifts his angle and aims a teasing thrust at Bucky’s prostate.

Bucky shudders through that for a few more thrusts, but Steve’s still playing, almost lazy as he bounces Bucky on his cock. Bucky bares his teeth in a smile to match Steve’s and takes matters into his own hands. Steve’s wonderfully sturdy under him, easily taking Bucky’s considerable weight as he braces himself and rises off Steve’s dick. He keeps going, moaning at the fever-hot drag of it along his walls, and doesn’t stop until it’s just the head inside him, keeping his rim spread wide.

Then he takes a deep breath and fucks back down.

Steve’s the one who shouts, grin vanishing as he arches off the rug and meets Bucky halfway, slamming into him with a wet, dirty sound. Bucky bites his lip hard to stifle a shout, eyes rolling back as he’s fucked full with sudden violence. He doesn’t sit – literally, fuck – on his victory, clinging hard to Steve as he does it again, pushing himself off Steve’s dick and sliding back down, taking it on his own this time as Steve keeps very still with bared teeth and slitted eyes.

They stare at each other as Bucky builds up a brutal rhythm, and it’s not a game because Bucky would already have lost then, but it’s something.

Steve lets it go on for longer that he would have in the past. But his patience is a dangerous thing, razor-sharp and writhing in the air like a live wire, waiting for Bucky to falter so he can pounce.

And Bucky does falter, half-collapsing on Steve when an unintentional shift in angle makes him drive down _just right_ on Steve and lose his fucking mind. He yells when Steve fucks into him just like that, hard and rough. Bucky’s cock, trapped between their bodies, throbs in a sharp demand he can’t quite see to. He tries to sit up, but Steve’s arms are suddenly around him, squeezing tight and keeping Bucky pinned to his chest as his hips work up into a relentless pace. It’s a hell of a drilling, inhuman in speed and strength, and even with the serum, it doesn’t take long for Bucky to feel raw and tender, every spearing thrust of Steve’s cock tearing sharp, helpless noises out of him.

He fucking loves it.

It’s the sweetest thing in the world to just lose himself in their burning bodies. He buries his face in Steve’s neck, crying out sharply as he’s fucked with increasing vigor. Steve groans and his rhythm starts to stutter, turning erratic in a way Bucky has become delightfully familiar with. He moans at the thought of being knotted, clenching instinctively down on Steve and sobbing out a breath when that makes his whole body go hot and liquid.

Steve’s holding him tight enough to hurt and fucking him like he wants to break him, and Bucky’s never felt more treasured.

He knows it’s coming, can feel it the way Steve’s dripping precum like a leaking faucet, and he’s moaning with how badly he wants Steve to hold him there and knot him tight, make him take it–

Steve freezes. It’s only a second, and Bucky’s body registers it first, going tense in turn, but before he can get a question out, Steve starts to _growl_.

Bucky has heard him growl him. Mostly, it’s directed at him, the sexy sort when they’re fooling around and little playful ones when Steve’s in wolf form. But this is nothing like those.

It’s darker, deeper, Steve’s whole chest vibrating under Bucky. It’s a bone-chilling sound. Bucky’s animal instincts, honed to perfection after the life he’s had, bristles in answer, fear and caution shuddering through him. He knows a predator when he sees one, and it doesn’t matter what skin he’s wearing, there’s very little about Steve that’s human at the moment.

In response, Steve clutches him tighter. He sits up, a single smooth motion, and Bucky momentarily forgets everything but the silken heat of Steve’s cock prying him open.

When he comes back to himself, it’s to hear Steve speak, the growl lending his voice a lethal edge.

“Someone’s coming. Human. They’re close.” Steve bares his teeth, and Bucky notes with no small amount of alarm that his canines have lengthened. “Too close.”

There are claws digging into Bucky’s skin, stopping just short of drawing blood. It shouldn’t make his cock twitch and ass tighten around Steve, but god, it does.

Steve makes a sound of shocked pleasure and turns wild eyes to Bucky as if the state they’re in has just sunk in. His hips jerk up, and there’s nowhere for him to go, already balls-deep in Bucky, but it’s still a hot, filthy grind. Bucky whimpers, scrabbling at Steve’s shoulders.

“Steve, _Steve_–”

Steve makes a pained noise, and then he’s moving. Bucky screams as he’s grabbed by the ass and lifted off Steve’s cock like a ragdoll; he’s set gently on the rug before Steve throws himself back in one violent movement.

It takes him to the other side of the room, to the wall near the door. He’s golden and furred before he reaches it.

Bucky scrambles to his feet, wincing at the hollow ache in his ass, but he ignores it in favor of booking it to their room. He pulls on the first set of clothes he can find, and grabs a gun, glad that he’s paranoid enough to stash weapons anywhere and everywhere, happier still that Steve doesn’t care that he does.

By the time he’s back in the main room, Steve’s poised a few feet from the door, lips pulled back from his snout in a toothy snarl and hair bristled threateningly. He’s half a second away from a pounce, and Bucky doesn’t envy the poor motherfucker on the other side of it. He doesn’t hesitate to go stand beside Steve; his rational mind isn’t scared of him, wolf or human or anything in between.

The knock comes as a surprise.

Hydra agents tend to favor a more brute force approach, not that they’ve ever made it as far as the cabin courtesy of Bucky’s overprotective werewolf bodyguard. Romanoff would have just found a way to break in. Only one of his visitors bother knocking.

“Wait,” Bucky murmurs without looking at Steve just as the knock sounds again. “Might be a friend.”

Steve shakes his head, the normal human gesture looking indescribably odd on his gigantic lupine form. His growl ratchets up a notch when Bucky starts creeping towards the door, and he shadows him closely but doesn’t try to stop him.

Bucky wraps a hand around the knob, takes a deep breath, and yanks it open, gun pointed squarely at their visitor.

It’s not Carter.

Nick Fury’s sole eye regards Bucky placidly from the wrong side of a gun. His composure is incredible given that Bucky shot at him – not seriously, always intending to miss, but still fucking shot at him – the last time he was here.

There’s a loud, very threatening growl, and Fury’s gaze shifts to Steve. This time, Bucky has the satisfaction of seeing something like alarm flash across his expression.

“I’d have pegged you as more of a cat person, Barnes,” he says after a beat, Steve providing helpful commentary via incessant growling.

“Shows what you know,” Bucky tells Fury before turning to Steve. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s…not a friend, but he’s not the enemy.” And then, because you never know with S.H.I.E.L.D or what’s left of it, he asks, “Are you, Nick?”

“Don’t call me Nick. And no, Barnes, I’m not here on a suicide mission.”

“Flatterer,” Bucky says flatly. But he steps back in a silent invitation, and Steve, who stopped growling when Bucky turned to him, crowds close to Bucky, a very clear warning for Fury not to get close. From anyone else, it would be annoying. Even from Steve, it would rankle if he were in his human form. But there’s something about this hulking wolf playing bodyguard that warms Bucky down to his bones.

And it’s nice too, to have someone who wants to protect him so badly, never mind whether Bucky needs it. He hasn’t had that in such a long time.

Bucky curls the fingers of his right hand into the thick fur at Steve’s scruff and raises a brow at Fury.

“Well? I assume this isn’t a social call.”

“How would you know? Natasha has only good things to say about your little forest retreat.”

“Forest home,” Bucky corrects sharply, unimpressed as always by Fury and the whole lot of them thinking he’s just here for a fun little break before he rejoins civilization. Maybe he is, but _Bucky_ doesn’t know, and that sure as hell means they’ve got no right to assume. “And Carter looked like I personally murdered her mother when she saw this place, so I have a feeling you’re getting conflicting accounts.”

“Barnes, what in hell makes you think Carter reports to me?”

“And Romanoff does?”

“She’s a friend.”

“Didn’t think you had those.”

Fury doesn’t take offense because god forbid he react like a normal person. His smile is a little too sharp for comfort. Bucky shakes his head and finally tucks the gun away, even though it makes him feel too vulnerable for comfort. His curls his left hand into a fist, the arm recalibrating as if on cue, and Fury’s not above sparing it a wary glance.

Steve steps even closer, plastered to Bucky from leg to waist, and fuck, he really is huge. One look at Fury shows he’s thinking the same thing, and Bucky’s prepared for the next question.

“That’s no normal wolf.”

“Really,” Bucky drawls, feigning nonchalance. “I had no idea. Looks plenty normal to me.”

Fury frowns at him, lips thinning. Bucky meets his eyes calmly, keeping his face blank and unfriendly as his head races through what he read of the S.H.I.E.L.D files. Hydra knew werewolves existed, but none of that made it into Romanoff’s online infodump. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D at large didn’t know, but even that is no guarantee that Fury is oblivious.

After several long moments, Fury backs down, which Bucky would consider a victory from anyone else. With people like Fury and Romanoff, it just means there’s something else they want more urgently.

“Why are you here, Fury?”

“Hydra’s back.”

The name, damn everything, still sends a chill down Bucky’s spine. He’s glad that the shirt he grabbed is a loose Henley that hides his goosebumps. And anyway, whatever reaction he has is easily drowned out by Steve’s rumbling growl.

Fury flicks his stare back to Steve and keeps it there even after he stops growling. Steve doesn’t look away either. He even leans forward a bit, those gorgeous blue eyes narrowing into a glower that’s no less effective coming from a wolf.

“Jesus,” Fury mutters, turning back to Bucky. “Well?”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say. Hydra was never gone in the first place.”

“Yeah, but you and the Avengers did a damn good job of tearing them down here. The others are almost done with Europe too, but I’ve got intel that says a few more heads, the big, nasty kind, are popping back up in America.”

“Fuckin’ great.” Bucky grinds the heel of his hand into his brows, squeezing his eyes shut like that will block the truth. He wouldn’t dare, normally, but Steve’s here and got his back, and he can quietly lose it for a second. But just a second. “Carter and the rest on it?”

“They’re gearing up for it. You’re welcome to join them.”

“Somehow, I doubt they need me.”

“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t,” Fury says calmly. “But I saw you last time, Barnes. You’ve got a grudge against them that’s greater than even Carter’s. Figured it’s fair to let you know. And it’s extra manpower.”

Bucky says nothing at first. Beside him, Steve’s equally quiet, which is eerie when Bucky’s used to his loud, panting breaths and teasing growls. He doesn’t need to ask to know what Steve’s answer will be. Fury can say what he wants, but Bucky’s never met someone better at holding a grudge than Steve Rogers, and it’s always been the worst when he did it on behalf of Bucky.

That’s not to say Bucky doesn’t want to rip out each of Hydra’s heads and then douse the body in hellfire. But he took a break for a reason. Wanted something more than violence after decades of only that. He has that now; he has Steve and this forest, a quiet life.

“I’ll think about it,” he says in the end.

Fury nods like he already knows what Bucky’s answer will be, and that’s irritating as fuck. His answering scowl just seems to slide off the guy, which pisses Bucky off even more.

“What about your…wolf?”

Bucky blinks, taken aback even though it’s a perfectly sensible question. It’s just that what Steve will do is so obvious to him that Bucky didn’t have to consciously think about it.

“He goes where I go.”

“Even if where you go is to Hydra?”

Steve’s snarl answers Fury’s question better than Bucky could, but he tries anyway, feeling oddly like he’s translating.

“Especially then.”

“Huh,” is all Fury says.

He doesn’t stick around for long after that. They shake hands like they’re sealing a deal, Fury rejects Bucky’s half-hearted offer of coffee and leaves. Bucky doesn’t exactly feel like a bad host as he watches Fury’s retreating back. Their interactions have been minimal, stilted, and always in an environment of violence. But they have a common enemy, and that counts for a lot in their lives.

Bucky closes the door and locks it, and he intends to discuss what happens now with Steve, but he doesn’t make it more than a few steps into the middle of the room before he’s tackled onto the floor.

Bucky grunts as he hits the ground but catches himself on his left arm. Steve’s furry body is draped over his back, and even through his clothes, Bucky can feel it, the shift of bone and muscle into something two-legged and human.

“Warn a guy,” Bucky huffs, and Steve’s growl is no less animalistic in this form.

“You smell like him.”

It takes Bucky a moment to understand those words, the syllables distorted by the rumble in Steve’s voice. The teeth pressing into his nape doesn’t help his brain function any better.

“I – _what_, we barely touched!”

Steve just continues to suck viciously at Bucky neck and rut against him. Bucky can feel it, now, the hard length pressing against his back, hot even through the sweats. It makes him flush hot, the arousal that vanished at Fury’s arrival flooding back with a vengeance.

Steve seems to lose patience all of a sudden. He rips Bucky’s shirt off, a single smooth act that leaves Bucky reeling as he’s suddenly laid bare. His pants suffer the same fate, and his gun is set aside a little more gently. It’s a whole lot of messy violence, and Bucky’s so turned on he can barely see by the time Steve’s picking off scraps of fabric from his front like he can’t bear to have even an inch of Bucky covered.

Two fingers push into him without warning, and Bucky arches off the floor, crying out. He’s open and so fucking loose from Steve’s cock, and Steve knows it, is fucking happy about it, judging by the way his angry growl turns into something lower and pleased. There’s the sound of him spitting and some slick, familiar noises. Bucky’s heart is in his throat and he’s prepared for it when Steve fucks back into him, but it still makes him claw at the floor and mewl like an alley cat.

Steve lies down on Bucky, buried to the hilt in him.

“Mine,” he growls, lips at Bucky’s ear. “You’re _mine_.”

There’s no question in it, only claim. It’s more the wolf than the human, Bucky knows, but he also knows Steve’s _always_ the wolf as much as he’s the human. Bucky’s got no such excuse for the way the possessiveness makes him go loose and liquid, melting under Steve and moaning for him, but he doesn’t need one, not when he’s been thinking of himself as Steve’s long before bites and serums got involved.

“Yours,” he manages, tongue clumsy in his mouth. Steve nips at his ear and starts fucking him, arms locked through Bucky’s biceps and keeping him pinned, body flat on the floor for Steve to pound into.

It doesn’t take for long for that telltale bulge to emerge, Steve’s burgeoning knot tugging at Bucky’s rim on each stroke. It’s a maddening sting, the catch and release, forcing Bucky’s breath to come in ragged whimpers. Steve pulls back and slams in brutally, pushing as deep as he can and staying there, knot growing and fucking growing.

“_Steve_,” Bucky gasps brokenly, nails scrabbling uselessly on the floor. “Steve, it’s – baby, please, I’m so – god, I’m so _full_–”

“I know,” Steve says, and his voice is a hoarse wreck, dripping need and want. “You’re taking it so well, Buck.”

He grinds his hips like he can press his knot deeper into Bucky, but he can’t, he’s already in so deep, and Bucky can’t _breathe_.

Steve keeps doing it, hips jerking in short thrusts he can’t seem to help. His knot drives Bucky crazy, pressing in on his walls and tugging at his hole, a hot, insistent pressure. It gets him sobbing, wet little breaths huffed into the crook of his arms, louder than Steve’s heavy panting.

“Buck, I’m–” Steve rasps, a warning, and then he’s sinking his teeth deep into Bucky’s nape and coming inside of him in endless hot pulses.

It fucking drenches Bucky, all that come filling him, nowhere for it to go with Steve’s knot plugging him so tight. Steve moans around his mouthful of bloody flesh, hips still working like he can inject himself into Bucky’s _veins_, and it’s that thought that makes him come, vision whiting out on the image of Steve spreading through his cells like the serum did, taking Bucky over and keeping him safe.

He makes a mess on the floor, and Steve rears back from his claiming bite. Bucky shudders at the burn of his teeth sliding out of his skin and whines when blood trickles down his neck. That shouldn’t be so hot, but Bucky can only regret that his healing will seal that wound in a few hours and even a mark won’t be there in the morning.

“You came on my knot,” Steve says, darkly pleased. His hand slides out of its stranglehold on Bucky to wander down his body. Steve cups his limp cock, making Bucky shudder and try in vain to arch away. But Steve’s more interested in the come splattering Bucky’s skin than in tormenting him. He trails his fingers through it, drawing nonsense patterns, before flattening his entire palm on the worst of the mess.

Bucky bites his lips and tries not to moan, but his body’s more honest, clenching hard around Steve’s knot, milking it.

Steve groans, loud and wanton, and _drags_ his come-stained hand over Bucky’s stomach and chest.

“Oh,” Bucky gasps, whole body jolting under Steve. “That’s – that’s disgusting, fuck.”

It’s one thing to say it, but it’s not very convincing when he’s moaning around the words and writhing on Steve’s knot. Steve just makes a deep humming sound and licks at the bleeding bite mark. He laps at it, each swipe of his tongue sending pain throbbing through Bucky. He licks up the blood on Bucky’s neck too, drinking each drop like he can’t bear to waste it.

Bucky will never be able to tell why it makes him go limp and easy, why his muscles just relax into the floor, why he just lets Steve mouth on him like he’s a prime cut of meat. But it does, and it’s so good, the pain and the pleasure and the sense of security underneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me <3


	2. and he told me i was holy (he's got me down on both knees)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve likes to ram his monster cock down Bucky’s throat and make him choke on it, but when it’s him on his knees with a mouthful of dick, he turns damn near worshipful, pressing soft little kisses up and down the whole, aching length of him until every one of Bucky’s muscles is pulled taut with the effort of staying still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can [find me here](https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. My inbox is always open!

“This is a bad idea, Steve.”

It’s almost funny, how familiar those words taste though it’s been literal decades since Bucky last uttered them. The situation is drastically different too. He’s not following Steve to socialist rallies or back alley fights anymore, but he’s not sure if the suspiciously spacious broom closet is a better alternative. It’s tucked into a corner of the floor containing most of Stark’s sprawling labs. Bucky knew the closet existed, if only because he couldn’t help obsessively cataloguing new environments, but he’ll swear on his ma’s grave that he didn’t even entertain the thought of defiling Stark’s oddly normal cleaning equipment until Steve stopped in front of the closed door, sniffed the air once, and herded him inside.

Oversized wolf turns into oversized man, but Steve’s answering grin is still eerily lupine.

“It’s a great idea,” he says, voice rough and rumbling in that way it gets when he’s fresh from the shift. “Why don’t I demonstrate?”

“Steve,” Bucky says, and he means it to be a warning, but Steve drops down to his knees and peers up at Bucky from under obscenely thick lashes, and he can’t help the way the name turns into a whine.

Steve’s grin turns both soft and satisfied. He nuzzles into Bucky’s crotch, the fabric of his loose sweats doing nothing to shield him from the burning heat of Steve’s skin.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, cheek resting against the growing bulge in Bucky’s pants. “You want it?”

“Do I – you – you’re the one who–” Bucky sputters, indignant, but Steve just hums and rubs his face more firmly against Bucky’s poor, tormented dick, and the indignation is quickly replaced by desperation. “Jesus fuck, _yes_, I want it.”

“Only had to ask, Buck,” Steve says mildly, already working his thumbs under the waistband.

“Asshole,” Bucky hisses, softly but with feeling, and then Steve’s shoving his pants down, blue eyes wide and pleased at the sight that greets him, and the rest of Bucky’s loving tirade gets stuck in his throat.

“Going commando, huh? Got some nerve, sweetheart, actin’ so coy after this.”

Bucky’s cheeks heat up; Steve pulls things so easily out of him.

“Fuck you, you know that’s not why I – _Steve_!”

He slaps his hand over his mouth, but it’s too late to stifle a yelp. Steve, lips wrapped around the head of Bucky’s dick, just winks at him. One of his hands wraps around the base of it, and the other curls around Bucky’s hip, enveloping the curve of it in his huge, hot palm. It pins him to the wall, firm enough that Steve can keep him there but not so strong that Bucky can’t break away if he really wanted to.

Steve does that, sometimes. Catches Bucky in the lightest of prisons so that staying still, being _good_, is the greatest challenge.

And well, sometimes Bucky doesn’t really want to be all that good, and that’s when Steve bodily puts him in his place, but they don’t have that sort of luxury right now because Stark and Banner and god knows who else are all right here, separated from Bucky’s half-naked form and kneeling werewolf lover by a few inches of plywood.

They don’t even know what Steve is, and damn if Bucky has any intention of explaining why there’s a buff, naked man with him instead of a large, golden wolf. He’d rather die of sheer fucking shame on the spot.

Steve growls, the playful sexy kind, not the one before imminent throat ripping, and his mouth pulls off Bucky’s cock with an audible pop.

“Am I boring you, Bucky?”

Bucky’s blood goes hot and cold all at once, straightforward arousal warring with a whole other sort of it.

“No,” he gasps. “No, baby, of course not.”

Steve rewards him by licking a wet, dirty stripe from base to tip. He sucks gently on a bulging vein, and Bucky grits his teeth so hard he fears they’ll shatter.

“You sure? I can stop, sweetheart. Find you something better to do. How about that?”

Knowing Steve, something ‘better’ would be Bucky being pinned and stuffed full of Steve’s cock and just fucking kept there, Steve not even moving until Bucky begs and cries and exhausts himself into a whimpering, needy mess. Or maybe he’d just tie Bucky up and jerk off over him and not let him come, not even let him make Steve come, and he’d just have to struggle against his bonds and _watch_–

Steve collects a fat drop of precome on his finger and just licks it up, eyes fluttering close like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Please don’t stop,” Bucky begs, trembling in Steve’s grip. “M’just worried someone will see, that’s it, Steve, I swear.”

“Better be quiet then,” Steve says, smiling sweetly before returning his tender mercies to Bucky’s dick.

Christ, he doesn’t make it easy. Steve likes to ram his monster cock down Bucky’s throat and make him choke on it, but when it’s him on his knees with a mouthful of dick, he turns damn near worshipful, pressing soft little kisses up and down the whole, aching length of him until every one of Bucky’s muscles is pulled taut with the effort of staying still. He plays with the foreskin, peeling it back to mouth at the exposed head, pulling off to shush the little keening noises Bucky can’t hold in. And then he dives right back in, all wet tongue and careful graze of teeth, like he’s been put on this accursed earth just to drive Bucky insane.

And when Steve seals his lips around the head and drags a nail ever so slightly along the sensitive underside of his cock, Bucky breaks with a muffled wail.

“Please,” he whines, both hands buried in Steve’s thick hair. “Steve, Steve, _please_.”

Steve’s blue eyes are almost black with pleasure, and they glint in dark satisfaction as he drinks in Bucky’s pleas. He takes pity on him, or maybe he was just waiting for Bucky to beg, because he’s sucking him down deeper, just like that, throat opening around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky whines into his fist, watching wide-eyed as his dick disappears into Steve’s hungry mouth. He tries to be quiet, rein it in, but he can’t, needy little noises tearing past any semblance of control.

Steve stops when his mouth meets the hand he’s got around the base. He pries his fingers off, one by one, the motherfucking tease, and Bucky watches helplessly, too mesmerized to look away though the view’s almost unbearably good.

The voices almost make him bite through his right hand.

Bucky freezes, recognizing Stark’s fast-paced speech, Banner’s calmer cadence, and the familiarity with which the two of them talk over each other, completing thoughts and countering unsaid arguments. Steve must hear it too; his ears are even sharper than Bucky’s serum-enhanced ones, but he gives no indication of it, happily sucking at Bucky’s dick like it’s a goddamn lollipop.

“Steve,” Bucky hisses, yanking at his hair.

Half-closed blue eyes open wide and pin Bucky with a look that shouldn’t be so intimidating coming from a man with a mouth full of dick. Bucky makes a startled noise and freezes. Steve’s hand, the one on his hip, clutches him tighter, and it’s no longer nails that dig into Bucky’s flesh but sharp claw-tips.

Bucky whimpers, message fucking received.

The voices are closer, now, and Steve’s just slowly taking all of Bucky into him, throat opening up like a hot vice. He only stops once his nose is buried in the trimmed patch of hair at Bucky’s groin. Bucky’s frozen, metal hand fisted in Steve’s hair and the other shoved in his own mouth, but he can’t quite help the sounds slipping past, not when Steve feels so fucking good, all wet and _hot_.

And then Steve’s snaking a hand down to grab Bucky’s balls and roll them in a rough grip, and there’s no stopping the shocked yelp that’s torn out of him.

Outside, Banner and Stark fall silent.

“Did you hear that?”

It’s Stark, his voice as clear as day, and if they can hear him in there, he sure as hell would have heard Bucky. He did fucking hear Bucky.

Bucky makes frantic eye contact with Steve – well, he tries. Steve just blinks placidly up at him, and Bucky just knows that if he could, he’d be grinning around his mouthful.

Bucky shakes his head, pitiful little motions, but he doesn’t mouth his safeword, doesn’t want to, and that’s all the permission Steve needs to do whatever the damn hell he wants.

If Banner replies, Bucky misses it because he’s too busy trying to choke down a scream as Steve’s throat convulses around him and his fingers slide back further to press dry at Bucky’s hole.

He doesn’t have that dubious luxury when someone knocks on the door.

Steve pulls back, but it’s just to breathe, his face flushed and mouth swollen as he sucks in air. Bucky stares at him, but Steve seems superbly unconcerned by the two men standing a few feet and one flimsy door away.

The handle rattles.

“It’s locked,” says Stark. “From the _inside_.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Banner replies, and god, he sounds as done with life as Bucky feels, sans the illicit thrill of having his cock sucked semi-publicly.

Steve’s mouth closes around the head of Bucky’s dick and sucks, and fuck, that’s his thumb, the tip easing itself inside Bucky, a dry burn that winds him up like nothing else, making him clutch at the walls and rise onto his tiptoes like he wants to get away, but there’s nowhere to go except deeper into Steve’s scorching mouth. Bucky pants into his fist, breaks skin by biting too hard, and Steve gives him no mercy, only wet suction and the sweetest burn.

“JARVIS,” comes Stark’s voice again. “Who’s defiling my utility closet?”

Steve huffs a laugh, Bucky’s cockhead still in his mouth, and Bucky shudders all over. Steve leans back to press a kiss to the tip, as soothing as it’s mocking, and then he’s back on his bullshit, sucking Bucky in and curling his tongue in ways that should be fucking illegal.

Bucky’s chest heaves like he just ran fifty miles, and his vision’s blurry, Steve a splash of menacing gold.

“Privacy protocol prevents me from disclosing that information, sir.”

JARVIS’s disembodied voice rings in the closet as clearly as it does outside, and Bucky sure doesn’t miss what that means. Steve does shoot the ceiling a quick glance but deems it unnecessary to pry his mouth off Bucky’s cock.

“So they are defiling my closet!”

Steve’s tongue slides inside the foreskin, a searing intrusion, and Bucky’s cheeks are wet with tears as he muffles a sob.

“Tony,” Banner sighs. “Let’s just go.”

“But–”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t had your fair share of fooling around in…unwise locations.”

“Yeah, but not a broom closet, come on, Brucie, I’ve got _standards._”

Bucky almost cries in relief when Stark’s voice trails off. Footsteps move away from, slow and almost reluctant.

“Sure you do.” Banner’s distant voice drifts to them. “Come on, what were you telling me about that interface?”

Stark’s ensuing chatter is damn near incomprehensible, but all Bucky cares about is that it grows fainter with every word.

Steve taps Bucky’s hip, claw poking at the thin skin. When Bucky looks down, Steve’s got an eyebrow arched upwards, a silent demand for attention. Bucky flushes hot.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Was just–”

Steve doesn’t wait for him to finish, sucking Bucky with renewed vigor and showing just how much he was holding back until now. His thumb’s still a teasing plug up Bucky’s hole. It doesn’t push in, doesn’t pull out, just stays there, the tip keeping Bucky open and aching for more.

He doesn’t last long after that, drowning in the heat of Steve’s mouth, all else driven out of his mind by a wet tongue and tight throat.

Steve swallows every drop, sucking Bucky dry and then suckling lazily at the head until Bucky’s weak at the knees and shaking from overstimulation.

“Baby, please,” he whispers, heart in his throat, and Steve shows mercy, mouth and finger easing off.

He stands up carefully, arms open to catch Bucky’s slumping body. Bucky lurches into a clumsy kiss that Steve returns happily, tongue pushing into Bucky’s mouth like he’s eager to share the taste of him.

Bucky lets out a hushed bark of laughter when they part, still clinging to Steve.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asks in between peppering sweet little kisses along Bucky’s face.

“We almost got caught, that’s what,” Bucky answers, voice pitched low, just in case. “Poor JARVIS.”

Steve grins, lips pressed to Bucky’s cheek.

“Never thought I’d end up trusting an AI to keep my secret but here we are.”

“Here we are,” Bucky agrees. “Come on, we should get outta here before they come back. You can never tell with Stark.”

Bucky takes maybe two shaky steps towards the door before he’s yanked back by a firm grip. Steve’s back is solid and unmoving behind him, trapping Bucky in a cage of sex-heated muscles.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Steve murmurs into his ear, sounding almost amused. “We’re not done yet, sweetheart.”

That seems clear enough when Steve angles his hips forward and lets his hard dick press against Bucky’s thigh. His reaction is downright Pavlovian, mouth watering and ass clenching as he grinds back into it.

Still, he has to say, “We have a perfectly nice, private _floor_ all to ourselves, Steve.”

“That we do,” Steve says, and Bucky would take that as agreement except that Steve’s also turning Bucky around and pushing him down to his knees. He looks at Steve’s flushed dick and up at his darkened eyes, and the expression on Steve’s face says loud and clear how much he likes Bucky like this.

“Pervert,” Bucky accuses, the sting taken out of it with how breathless he is.

Steve just smiles and feeds Bucky his cock.

Bucky moans as his mouth is filled, sucking Steve down eagerly, not giving half a fuck where they are or who can walk in. With Steve’s taste flooding his mouth, he doesn’t have the strength to care.

Steve fists a hand in Bucky’s hair, the long strands wound around his fingers and turned into the perfect leash. Bucky loves it, the possessive ache of it, and it’s so easy, between that and the hand curled around his jaw, to just open his throat and let Steve slide home.

Steve’s not gentle when he fucks Bucky’s mouth, but he doesn’t rush either, taking him with slow, deep thrusts that seem to spear through Bucky’s chest. He moans around his mouthful, limp as a doll as he’s moved and held still according to Steve’s whims.

“So fuckin’ pretty, Buck,” Steve tells him, the praise washing warm over his skin.

Bucky moans again, relishing Steve’s answering hiss and the growing frenzy of his thrusts.

Steve warns him with a tug on his hair and a whispered word, and Bucky swallows his come hungrily, groaning deep in his throat at the heat and taste of it.

Steve’s knot lies dormant, and Bucky wishes, not for the first time, that Steve could tie behind his teeth and just leave him stuffed full like that, but serum or not, he needs air to live, and Steve’s knot lasts half an hour at the least. Still, he can’t resist pressing his mouth to the base of Steve’s cock, licking and sucking at the faint bulge there. Steve chokes out a gasp, pulling Bucky’s hair with more desperation than deliberation. Bucky presses one last, lingering kiss to the knot and sits back on his heels, blinking up at Steve.

And that, more than the sight of him on his knees or with a mouth full of dick, is what tears a ragged confession out of Steve.

“God, I fucking love you.”

Bucky smiles up at him, feeling warm down to his soul.

“I love you too, Stevie.”

Steve tugs him up, holding Bucky close as they kiss, wet and deep. It’s Steve’s turn to taste himself on Bucky’s tongue, and he does so enthusiastically, licking in deep until Bucky’s dazed again.

But the frantic energy of it eases into something softer, sweeter. They kiss until Bucky’s steady on his feet and Steve’s claws have turned back into blunt nails.

“Now, can we go to our floor?” Bucky asks, smiling in spite of himself.

Steve’s answer is to drop down to all fours, bones shifting and fur flowing. He shakes himself once, and Bucky can’t help the urge to bury both hands in Steve’s long, thick coat. It’s soft under his touch and undeniably soothing. But he doesn’t stay like that long, because Steve in this form makes the closet seem more crowded than he did in his human skin.

Thankfully, there’s no one outside when the two of them slink out. The elevator in this floor also connects to the residential floors without cutting through the other, common floors. Bucky’s grateful for that because the Avengers’ questions regarding the giant wolf that follows him around, even to battle, is pretty much all he can handle for the time being.

The floor Stark makes Bucky use during his occasional jaunts with Carter’s merry band of heroes is sandwiched between hers and Banner’s. It’s generous and downright eerie for Stark to be this hospitable to the man who killed his parents – and boy, wasn’t that a mess and a half, and Bucky’s still sure that it was Carter’s intervention that stopped Bucky or Stark or both of them from dying during that confrontation – but Bucky’s also relieved that Stark placed him between Captain America and the Hulk, two people who can stop him on the unlikely occasion of him losing his shit.

Well, at least that’s what he thought before Steve returned to him. Now, he’s confident Steve can contain him if needed. He’s the one who beat Bucky and gave him his mind back in the first place. There’s a sense of safety in that overwhelming strength.

In the blissful privacy of their floor, Bucky takes a long, hot shower. Steve joins him, but they don’t do more than soap each other up and work shampoo into the other’s hair. It’s nice and relaxing, and Bucky’s all too happy to just sink into his bed afterward. Steve hesitates, the expression on his face a familiar one. In the end, he seems to decide he’d rather stay in human form and climbs in, spooning Bucky from behind.

And Bucky’s down for some quality cuddling whether Steve’s furred or muscled, but he does admit that after the day he’s had, it feels nice to have Steve’s arms wrap around him and hold him like he’s something precious.

“How’s your arm?” Steve asks after a while, tone tentative like he’s not sure whether he’s allowed to.

Bucky appreciates unsaid implication that he can bow out of this conversation, but he finds that he does want to talk about it.

“Good.” He shakes out his left arm for Steve’s benefit, both of them silent as they listen to the plates recalibrate. “Stark knows his shit.”

“You were uncomfortable.”

Bucky shrugs. He didn’t really think Steve wouldn’t notice how tense Bucky was while Stark replaced the plates the acid ate through. He’s just glad there was no internal damage. He always finds it harder to remind himself that Tony Stark is not a Hydra technician when the wirings are exposed.

“I don’t like people touching me.”

Steve says nothing, but each of his pores seem to radiate a sense of puzzlement.

“You don’t count, Steve,” Bucky says, exasperated but fond. “Do I look like I mind it when you’re slobbering all over me?”

“Hey,” Steve complains, poking Bucky’s belly. “I don’t slobber.

“Sure, pal. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The bite to his shoulder is an expected retaliation. Bucky snorts and snuggles back into Steve. He’s comfortable, physically, held close to Steve and sharing his warmth. But his head’s too loud to truly let him rest.

“Do you think this is the right choice?” Bucky asks quietly.

Steve’s response is immediate.

“For you, for me, or for us?”

“All of it.”

“The city doesn’t call to me the way nature does. Told you, I’m the wolf as much as I’m the man. But the full moon’s weeks away, so it’s nothing I can’t handle. I know we’ll go back home once we’re done here. And I like it, fighting beside you. You’re pack, you’re mine, and it’s strange to have the Avengers run with us, but I can tune them out if I focus on you. And that’s easy, Buck, because you shine like the sun.”

Bucky’s face warms, but it’s more than skin-deep, the way Steve makes him feel.

“I like fighting with you too.”

It feels inadequate, but it’s all Bucky can say. Steve hums happily and kisses his nape, soft and tender.

“Love you, sweetheart. I’m fine. We’re fine, the way I see it. But you’re the only one who can decide whether this is right for you.”

“I miss home,” Bucky blurts out, pushing back against Steve even though they’re already fused together. “I miss the forest and running with you and the way it’s just the two of us in the world.”

Steve presses kisses all along his shoulder, not even hesitating when his lips find metal instead of flesh.

“Buck,” he murmurs, heartbreaking emotion packed into that one word. “But.”

Of course, Steve knows there’s a but. Of course he heard it in Bucky’s voice.

“But I missed this too,” he says honestly. “I don’t want to do it all the time. Not even when it’s Hydra. But I like it, doing some good in the world after spending so long tearing it apart.”

“That wasn’t you,” Steve says fiercely, predictably. “But I understand.”

“I still did it,” Bucky reminds him gently, not for the first time. “And it’s not the worst thing, is it? Wanting to put things to right?”

“Of course not, sweetheart. You know it’s not. It’s not a forever choice, Buck. Our home’s our home. It will be there, whenever we go back. And looks to me like the Avengers can use all the firepower they can get. The things gunning for them seem as overpowered as they are. They won’t turn us down if you wanna help.”

Bucky nods. It’s nothing he hasn’t thought of before, what Steve’s saying. But it’s still nice to hear them said by another, by Steve, and with such conviction.

“You’ll be with me?”

“Whatever you choose,” Steve promises. “Till the end of the line, pal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think <3


	3. i found god, i found him in a lover (i found the devil, i found him in a lover)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I _am_ the big, bad wolf.”
> 
> “You’re a cuddly puppy is what you are,” Bucky says, and it’s not a lie, just not the full truth. “And I ain’t no red riding hood, pal.”
> 
> “Think you could pull it off. Just the cloak, nothing else. You’d look pretty in red, Buck. All bright and wanton, waiting for someone to just eat you up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can [find me here](https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve, lounging in the bedroom doorway, silently continues to look at Bucky like that. And he shouldn’t get flustered, not when the last year has left him as familiar with Steve’s new body and altered temperament as he was with that reedy firecracker of a kid, but no amount of familiarity saves Bucky from the slow, hot tightening of his whole body.

“Steve.” He injects a little bit of a whine into his voice. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Steve asks, and his voice is amused but his eyes aren’t joking at all.

“That,” Bucky says nonsensically. He swallows, tries again. “You know what.”

Steve shrugs, a languid motion that ripples through his torso. He’s shirtless again, even the shorts more of a concession than what he usually makes in their forest home. Alright, it’s not like Bucky’s complaining, but it’s distracting to have Steve hanging around with his dick out. And he can afford that in the little cabin that has become their territory, safe and protected, but it’s a whole other ballgame here at the tower. Steve seems to feel the same though. He stays in his wolf form for the most part, and when he shifts, it’s to–

Well, there’s a reason Bucky’s insides are squirming right now.

“Am I bothering you, Buck?” he asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Bucky shifts on the bed, slowly putting his tablet away. Steve tracks the motion with keen interest.

“You’re not,” Bucky says, swallowing heavily.

He wasn’t doing much, just idly flicking through news reports of the latest Avengers mission. Bucky wasn’t supposed to have anything to do with that kind of thing, but then Barton got injured fighting _Russian mobsters_ of all things, and Carter asked, and everyone knows she’s hard to deny. Now there are a couple of blurry pictures and half a dozen eyewitness reports of a man with a metal arm and a gigantic golden wolf fighting purple aliens. Bucky’s not sure what to feel about that. As long as their identities aren’t revealed, he imagines he’ll manage.

He knew the risks when he said yes to Carter. And so did Steve, sticking to Bucky’s side like a burr.

“How’s your rib?” Steve asks, strolling towards the bed with long, graceful steps that almost hide the predator’s gait he never quite sheds. It does things to Bucky, and that must show because Steve’s pleasant smile gains a sharp edge.

“All healed,” Bucky says a little breathlessly. “You can see for yourself.”

“I intend to.”

Steve strips, then straddles him, all that gloriously bare skin within Bucky’s reach. He’s helpless not to reach out. Steve’s so hot all the time, and Bucky swears, physiology be damned, that just touching him chases away the chill that settled deep into Bucky’s bone in those long seventy years.

Steve leans into the touch and slides his hands under Bucky’s loose t-shirt in the process, those long fingers spreading out over his ribcage. Bucky didn’t take much damage in the last fight, just a broken rib which healed overnight thanks to the serum. But the promise of a swift convalescence didn’t stop Steve from pacing their floor in the Tower with his lupine body coiled with tension.

“You worry too much,” Bucky says, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I’m fine.”

“It’s not so fun on the other side, is it?” Steve says snidely, only to soften a second later and kiss Bucky well and good on the mouth.

“I wasn’t this bad,” Bucky mumbles against his lips.

“You were worse.”

Bucky would protest, but Steve’s not wrong, for one thing, and for another, his tongue is in Bucky’s mouth, effectively shutting him up.

“Tell me again,” Steve says, not quite breaking the kiss, teasing Bucky with words almost breathed into his mouth. “How was I looking at you, hm?”

“Like you wanted to eat me alive.”

“Huh.” Steve chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. Bucky presses his palms firmer down on warm, soft skin. “Fair enough. I _am_ the big, bad wolf.”

“You’re a cuddly puppy is what you are,” Bucky says, and it’s not a lie, just not the full truth. “And I ain’t no red riding hood, pal.”

“Think you could pull it off. Just the cloak, nothing else. You’d look pretty in red, Buck. All bright and wanton, waiting for someone to just eat you up.”

“Jesus,” Bucky chokes out, heart starting to pound. “That the kind of perverted shit running through your head, Steve?”

“You’re an inspiration,” Steve says, and suddenly, the world flips, and Bucky’s sprawled on top of Steve.

Bucky doesn’t quite know how it happens, only that Steve’s the only one he trusts enough to let his guard down this way. Under him, Steve spread out like a demigod right out of some myth.

“You should take off your clothes,” Steve says, an order phrased like an offhand suggestion. “Let me show you what I think about.”

Bucky almost rips fabric in his haste to obey. He has to climb off Steve to get his boxers off, but he crawls back on top of him immediately afterward, groaning happily at the press of skin on skin. Steve lightly rests his hands on Bucky’s hips, but his gaze is heavier, roving over every bared inch of Bucky with unbridled hunger.

Once, Bucky used to preen under such attention, pleased but not all that surprised, taking it as his due. But these days, he’s more used to his body being a weapon than an object of lust, and the need pouring out of Steve hits him with all the force of a tidal wave. Those bright blue eyes don’t shy away from Bucky’s numerous scars or his metal arm. Steve takes them in with the same, bright-eyed fervor he extends to Bucky’s mouth and his dick and the cleft of his chin and the soft waves of his hair.

It's the kind of thing a man could get drunk on.

“Come up here,” Steve tells him, tugging slightly at Bucky’s hips; it’s more a suggestion of force than anything else, but it’s enough. “Sit on my face, sweetheart.”

Bucky scrambles to obey, heart in his eyes, his throat.

He’s careful, feeling unusually clumsy as he squats above Steve’s face, both hands gripping the headboard. Steve lightly runs his palms up and down Bucky’s sides, gentle, reassuring touches that turn distinctly proprietary when his hands grab hold of Bucky’s ass. They spread him wide, exposing his tightly clenched hole.

An approving hum drifts up.

“Hell of a view,” Steve says, and Bucky almost spontaneously combusts.

“Shut up.”

“Aw, are you shy?”

“Steve!”

Steve laughs, the bastard. He spreads Bucky even wider and tugs him down, and Bucky lets it happen, thighs straining and gut tightening. Steve starts with a brief, teasing flick of his tongue over Bucky’s hole, but even that light touch goes through him like a bolt of lightning. The wooden headboard creaks alarmingly under Bucky’s fingers.

“Easy, tiger,” Steve says, oozing smugness.

“Fuck you.”

“If you’re good.”

That shuts Bucky up, and Steve also abandons conversation in favor of fucking burying his face in Bucky’s ass. He jolts, shuddering violently, but Steve’s got an unforgiving grip on him and uses it to keep Bucky right where he wants him. And where he wants Bucky in in reach of the clever, filthy the tongue swiping wet and hot over his hole. He moves into it helplessly, riding Steve’s face with minute, twitching motions. Steve murmurs an approval, his breath brushing Bucky’s asshole.

It’s the weirdest mix of embarrassing and arousing, perching over Steve’s face with a tongue teasing his hole. Steve’s always been a filthy fucker with the face of an angel, but Bucky swears to god that he grew more depraved in the years they were separated.

Steve pries his face out of Bucky’s ass with a put-upon sigh and asks, “Buck, you complaining?”

Bucky did not mean to say any of that out loud, but fact is that he loses his mind and then some when Steve does this to him. At least Steve’s asking him something that has a straight, simple answer.

“Nope.”

“Good boy,” Steve croons condescendingly, and Bucky’s sure he’d have given a biting, witty response if his insides didn’t choose that moment, by sheer coincidence, to turn into molten goo.

Steve’s no help, diving back into Bucky’s ass with double the enthusiasm. He traces the rim with the tip of his tongue, coaxing Bucky loose with infuriating ease. It slides inside then, a scorching hot intrusion that drives Bucky wild with a few, lazy flicks. He finds himself moving over Steve’s face with increasing frenzy, as if Steve will give it to him good if Bucky wriggles his ass just right.

And fuck, he probably will.

He seems to like it well enough, fingers digging into Bucky’s ass hard enough to bruise, not holding him in place so much as feeling the warm give of the flesh there. It’ll leave marks that will fade soon, but Bucky knows Steve likes that too, likes the excuse it gives him to work Bucky over again and again, painting over his skin with a fresh set of bruises.

Steve seals his mouth over Bucky’s hole, tongue as deep in as it can get, and sucks. There are wet, slurping sounds, and they fuck Bucky up, gets him whining through his teeth and shuddering against Steve’s mouth. Steve squeezes one cheek hard, then pulls his hand back to smack Bucky on the meat of his ass. Bucky cries out, trying instinctively to rise out of Steve’s reach only to be pulled right back down. Steve sinks his fingers into the spot he hit, nails biting down on the sensitive skin, and tears spring to Bucky’s eyes as pain blends exquisitely with pleasure.

Steve makes a happy little sound that makes Bucky’s insides tremble.

Teeth scrape over his rim, and tears spill from Bucky’s eyes even as his cock grows wet at the tip.

Steve just keeps going, as relentless as he’s merciless, eating Bucky out sweet and sloppy. He gets Bucky wet and loose, pleasure curled hot in his gut and walls clamping around an aching emptiness. And Steve doesn’t stop, not until Bucky’s grinding down on his face and sobbing with every breath.

Bucky doesn’t know if Steve’s jaw gets tired or if Bucky’s just pitiful enough with the noises he’s making. But he stops, pushing Bucky up and away from his mouth. Bucky almost topples to the side, but Steve holds on to his thighs, the grip possessive and grounding. He manages, somehow, to crawl down Steve’s body and half-collapse on his chest.

Steve pets him gently, one hand playing with Bucky’s hair, the other massaging his neck and shoulders.

“Wore you out?” Steve asks. A little thrill goes through Bucky at the hoarseness of his voice. “You can take a little more, can’t you?”

Bucky opens one eye to glare at him. His entire lower half is still thrumming.

“I am _not_ worn out. You gonna make me come or what, hotshot?”

Steve shrugs. Bucky moves with the rise and fall of his chest, and god, he wants to sink into Steve sometimes, flay his ribs wide open and crawl inside that safe darkness.

“Go on then,” Steve says, and the casualness in his tone is affected but no less effective for it. “Take what you need.”

Bucky pushes himself up, barely steady with his knees on either side of Steve’s hips. Like this, it’s hard to ignore their dicks, both hard and leaking profusely. Bucky’s too busy staring at Steve’s and debating whether to put his mouth on it and doesn’t catch the lube in time. It hits his chest and bounces off, falling on the mattress.

“Oops,” Steve says unrepentantly.

Bucky just shakes his head. He grabs the lube and is about to get some on his fingers when Steve’s hand clamps around his wrist.

“You don’t need those, sweetheart,” Steve says, with a smile that Bucky doesn’t trust at all. “Just my cock.”

That makes a moment to register. When it does, Bucky makes high, bitten-off noise. Steve’s smile widens, but the hungry gleam in his eyes doesn’t change at all.

Bucky’s quiet as he slicks up Steve’s cock. His heart’s going a mile a minute, and the silken heat of Steve in his hand is no help. There’s no ignoring, by sight or touch, the sheer size of Steve. And Bucky knows he can take it and take it well, but it’s still a hell of a thing when the guy who sometimes insists on shoving almost his entire fist up Bucky’s ass as prep suddenly turns around and does _this_.

Bucky could say no. Demand something slower, more thorough.

He’s not going to, but he likes knowing that he can, that there’s no awkward barrier when it’s Steve here in bed with him. It makes it more intense, the choice to rise on shaky legs and shuffle forward until Steve’s cock is poised over his hole.

The way Steve watches him – that alone threatens to undo what little restraint Bucky has left.

“Can I?” he hears himself ask.

Steve’s expression turns pleased and fiercely proud. He cups Bucky’s face in one hand, thumb slowly stroking his cheek.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and starts to lower himself.

It punches a gasp out of him, right at the start. The blunt head feels immense against his hole, loose and needy as it is from Steve’s mouth.

“Steve,” he calls, barely recognizing his voice.

Steve’s free hand grasps Bucky’s hip, holding him tight.

“It’s alright,” Steve murmurs. “C’mon, Buck. You can take it.”

He’s right. Bucky can. He _does_.

He whimpers through it, the sound pulled out of him by the hot drag of Steve’s cock along his insides. It doesn’t seem to end, and that sensation is familiar enough, but it’s one thing when Steve’s pinning him down and filling him up, another when Bucky’s the one doing the work. He’s a panting wreck by the time he bottoms out.

Steve lets him take his time, caressing Bucky’s face and holding his hip, but he’s not unaffected, far from it. His chest lifts and falls with deep, carefully controlled breaths that are as telling as Bucky’s heaving gasps. And he’s flushed the prettiest pink from face to chest, and Bucky would rib him for it except that he doesn’t have enough breath to form words and is in no better state himself.

Bucky rocks his hips experimentally and damn near bites through his lip at the sensation.

It’s – good, Steve always feels so good, and Bucky can live a thousand years and not get enough of him.

Bucky tumbles forward in a move that’s more need than thought. Steve meets him halfway, abdomen rippling under Bucky’s palms. It’s less a kiss than mouths panting together; the angle he’s bent at makes Bucky sees stars and clench down hard, and Steve can play at control all he wants, but he’s balls-deep in a tight hole and it shows.

Bucky breaks the kiss and leans back, settling back on Steve’s cock with a hiss. He starts to move in earnest, gritting his teeth against the sounds that crowd up his throat and doing a pitiful job of holding them in. Steve likes him loud and shows it, fingers clamped tight around Bucky’s hips and following his movements. It’s nice, being held so tight. Bucky feels like he’s flying apart at the seams, full to bursting and shaking with it. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t think he could if he tried, hooked on the hot, wet slide of Steve’s cock in and out of him.

“Christ, Buck.” Steve sounds strangled, biting out the words like he’s cursing. “Told you red looked good on you.”

Bucky bites back a moan, but something must show on his face, in the sudden tightening of his ass around Steve. The grin that steals across Steve’s mouth is sharp and sly, but it trembles at the edges.

“Yeah? You like that? Little red ridin’ hood.”

“F-fuck you, that’s not funny.”

Steve rolls his hips up, a motion that’s languid and lazy but still sends sparks up Bucky’s spine. He can’t help riding Steve harder, and his thighs burn, a sweet, searing ache. Bouncing on Steve’s cock is hardly the most physically grueling thing he’s done, but it drives him out of his mind the way nothing else ever has, makes him weak-kneed and trembling.

“It’s not funny at all,” Steve says, and it’s gratifying, the strain in his voice. “S’hot is what it is. Think about it, sweetheart. Out in those woods, just us two. Think you won’t like it, me chasing you down? ‘Course you will, I know you.”

Bucky keens, the sound rising high.

“Wouldn’t lure you anywhere, Buck,” Steve says, and there’s something of the wolf in him now, in those narrowed eyes and toothy smile. “Wouldn’t wait. I’d fuck you where I find you, wouldn’t care who sees. And you’d let me, won’t you, baby? Spread those pretty legs for me, fucking beg for my knot.”

Steve thrusts up, sharp and sudden, and Bucky throws his head back, shouting, the whole of him going limp. Steve picks up the slack like he’s been waiting for it, holding Bucky in place and fucking up into him, rough and violent.

“Tell me,” he snaps. “Tell me you would.”

“I–”

Steve speeds up, drilling into Bucky like he wants to break him a little, and Bucky loses the words before he’s even formed them, mouth hanging slack as Steve makes good use of him.

A hand fists in hair and pulls painfully tight.

“Yes,” Bucky gasps, voice thin and trembling. “Yes, yes, I want it, please, you know I want it, Steve, _please_.”

Steve eases up, just like that, and Bucky’s left reeling at the sudden change. Steve’s fingers massage his scalp, then trail down feather-soft over his cheek and lips.

“I know you do,” Steve says, sweet all of a sudden. “Why don’t you show me how much you want it?”

It’s not a suggestion. Steve jolts Bucky to life with a harsh snap of his hips, and then stops like he’s giving Bucky the reins. He isn’t, the fucker, the illusion of control a rope that winds around Bucky’s heated limbs and sets him in motion.

He’s close though, brought to the brink by the maddening heat of Steve inside of him and the images still flitting through his head – of running free in a forest, _their_ forest, being caught and pinned, Steve’s weight heavy over his back, his claws tearing delicate skin, making Bucky bleed, making him beg.

And god, Steve’s right, he would beg, would give it all up, would writhe and whine for Steve, desperate for his mouth, his cock, his knot.

He wants it.

The realization is a sudden shock of a thing. He drives down hard, flesh slapping loudly as he rides Steve with frenzied vigor. He _wants_ it, wants Steve like that, half-man, half-wolf, taking Bucky raw right there on the forest floor, fucking him till he screams, _owning_ him–

Caught in the fantasy and on Steve’s cock, Bucky almost doesn’t hear it. But JARVIS has a way of making himself be heard.

“Sergeant Barnes, you have visitors.”

The AI’s clear voice rings through the room. Bucky freezes. Under him, Steve also goes very still, head cocked in a way that’s eerily similar to how he gets in his other body.

“Who?” Bucky manages to croak.

“Captain Carter and Agent Romanoff.”

Steve’s fingers, curved over Bucky’s jaw, twitches ever so slightly.

“Tell them I’m busy,” Bucky says.

“They’re already in the elevator, Sergeant.”

“Fuck, then tell them to – _mmph_!”

Bucky makes a confused noise through the fingers stuffing his mouth. Steve barely spares him a glance even as he presses down hard on Bucky’s tongue.

“Please ask them to wait ten minutes, JARVIS. Bucky will be out in while.”

There’s a brief pause.

Bucky could override the order. He’s the one officially assigned to this floor, who has control over how much JARVIS can invade his privacy. Stark and the rest don’t know of Steve’s existence only because JARVIS is the one running the Tower, and he decides which secrets he can afford to keep.

But Steve’s still looking towards one of the invisible speakers in the ceiling, ignoring Bucky while filling his mouth, his ass. Casually proprietary.

“Message relayed, Mister Rogers,” JARVIS says after a moment.

Steve finally turns back to Bucky, and whatever he sees on Bucky’s face makes his eyes go dark.

“You got ten minutes to make me come, Buck.”

“Wh–”

The pitiful attempt at a question dies around the fingers shoved inside his mouth. Steve hooks them over Bucky’s lower teeth and yanks him forward by the jaw, watching drool wet Bucky’s chin like it’s the prettiest sight he’s ever seen.

“Move.”

It’s a short, succinct order. Bucky whines, high and desperate, and lurches to action.

It hurts a little, throwing his body into a rhythm that burns through his veins. He likes it, but his own body is secondary to the single-minded pursuit of Steve’s climax. Bucky wants his pleasure, wants him to come, wants to be _good_.

Steve lies still under him, flushed and panting, the hand not in Bucky’s mouth clenching and unclenching on his hips. It’s the eyes that really tell how close he is; they’re wide open and glazed, looking at Bucky but seeing nothing, the embers in them smoldering in silence.

“Please,” Bucky mumbles around Steve’s fingers, the word coming out slurred and distorted. Steve barely seems to hear, mouth now open, an enticing pink that makes Bucky ache.

He braces both hands on Steve’s chest and sucks on his fingers as he slams his body down again and again and again.

It’s sudden, when it happens. Steve’s whole body goes tense and taut, and Bucky has barely a second to register that before Steve’s hips jerk up and his cock starts to pulse, coming deep inside Bucky. He freezes at the first burst of heat, a moan fluttering in his throat as come drenches his walls. Steve comes an obscene amount these days, and Bucky loves it, loves to have it leaking out of him, but he’s equally used to the feeling being accompanied by the fever-hot bulge of a knot stretching his rim.

But Steve just softens and slips out. A trail of heat trickles out in his wake, pulling another shudder out of Bucky.

Steve’s slower to take his fingers out of Bucky’s mouth. They linger, dragging along the flat of his tongue and rubbing over his lips. Bucky lets them go with his mouth puckered in a gentle kiss. Steve’s looking at him, eyes half-lidded and content, the possessive affection in them no less intense for it.

“How many minutes was that?” Bucky asks.

He sounds like he deep-throated Steve’s dick instead of getting his ass split on it.

“Enough that we’ve got time to cuddle a little,” Steve says, unceremoniously pulling Bucky down.

Sprawled on top of Steve with their bodies slotting perfectly together, it’s impossible to ignore the hard line of Bucky’s cock. But Steve does exactly that, petting Bucky’s hair and nuzzling his cheek like this is just another post-coital cuddle.

“Steve,” Bucky whines softly.

“Mm?”

“I’m still hard.”

“I know.” Steve doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement. “Know what we’re gonna do about that, Buck?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me,” Bucky says, letting Steve hear that Bucky’s not so sure he’s going to like what he’ll hear.

Steve laughs, a deep, satisfied sound.

“Don’t be like that. It’s fun, I promise.”

“Do tell then.”

“You’re gonna put on some clothes, and you’re going to go talk to them. I don’t care if you’re hard or not, but you’ll be doing it with my come dripping out of you. How about it, pal?”

Bucky’s stunned into silence for several long moments.

“Steve,” he whimers when he regains his voice. “I don’t – I can’t just–”

“Sure you can,” Steve says, soothing, mocking. His voice hooks into Bucky’s gut, tugs at his cock. “You’re going to. Know why?”

For a moment, Bucky just pants into Steve’s throat, so turned on that he’s choking on it.

“W-why?”

Steve grips his neck and squeezes once.

“Because I told you to, sweetheart.”

-

Bucky walks out in a daze.

He doesn’t tell JARVIS to open the door for Carter and Natasha until he’s already on the couch, legs crossed almost demurely. He tries in vain to will himself to softness, but his body’s still singing from Steve’s tender mercies and he’s leaking come, an unsteady drip that makes him feel gross and owned, a startling dichotomy that makes it damn near impossible to sit in place without squirming.

There’s no way he can walk normally, but seated like this and wearing the tightest boxer-briefs he owns and a pair of loose sweats, he can at least hide his raging erection.

The two women walk in and don’t seem bothered by the wait or Bucky’s unfriendly expression. It’s not that he doesn’t like them, just that they’ve got real shitty timing.

“What is it?” Bucky asks. He sounds like he’s got a cold, and that’s odd enough to make Natasha’s eyes narrow.

Bucky meets her stare calmly. The blankness comes easy with anyone who’s not Steve. Bucky considers it an improvement that it’s now a default setting rather than the only one.

Carter is the one who speaks, easily commanding Bucky’s attention despite the drastic situation in his pants.

“Clint’s birthday is in a week. His leg’s bothering him quite a lot. We have plans to visit him. A surprise of sorts.”

Bucky just blinks at her.

“That’s…nice?”

“Come with us,” Natasha says. “His apartment’s tiny, but the building’s got a nice roof. Kate will get him up there. It’ll be just us and a few of the other residents. Nothing too big.”

“Clint wouldn’t like that anyway,” Peggy adds thoughtfully.

Bucky takes a moment to swallow the bitter pill that he got pulled off Steve’s dick for a fucking birthday party.

Alright, that’s not very charitable, and Barton’s a cool guy but fuck, the _timing_. And besides, he’s still not sure why they’re asking him.

“I wasn’t planning on staying here that along.” He almost leaves it at that. But then, feeling unsettlingly like a kid in those high school soaps Steve likes to binge on when they’re in the Tower, he adds, “And why ask me anyway? Shouldn’t it be an Avengers thing or whatever?”

Natasha gives him a sly little smile.

“Told you, his neighbors will also be there,” she tells him.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Bucky’s scowl simply slides off the two of them.

“It is an Avengers thing,” Carter says. “It’s why we’re asking.”

“I’m not–”

“Clint would like it if you came,” Natasha says before Bucky can even finish his protest. “He’s got a crush on your sniping.”

“He was happy when you took over for him,” Carter adds, eyes wide in a way that cannot possibly be sincere.

The whole exchange leaves Bucky reeling.

Natasha and Carter make an unfortunately effective team and not just out on the field. The phrase ‘power couple’ rises, a little hysterically, to Bucky’s mind. He cannot believe this is a conversation he’s having with come dripping out of his ass.

“If I say yes, will the two of you leave?”

“Let it never be said you’re not direct,” Natasha mutters.

“Yes,” says Carter.

“Then yes.” Bucky does not squirm. Stays frozen in place, legs crossed tightly. “Out, now.”

Mercifully, both of them stand up.

“How are your ribs?” Carter asks as she leaves, in a tone that says she knows the answer. Bucky didn’t miss her assessing glance when she first stepped into the floor.

“It’s fine. Healed.”

“Where’s Steve?” Natasha makes a show of looking around. “He usually doesn’t go far from you.”

“He’s taking a nap,” Bucky says, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady. “Any more questions?”

Carter grins and makes herself scarce. Natasha lingers for a moment, eyes bright and suspicious on Bucky. There’s nothing threatening about it. It feels, if anything, like she’s teasing him, thought even she can’t have guessed that Bucky’s fucking his wolf.

Or if she has, he’s sure the conclusions she’s drawn from it are the kind that should put him in jail. He squints at her. Her smirk widens.

“Have fun,” she says, and then she’s gone too.

Bucky doesn’t quite breathe until the door slides shut behind them.

“JARVIS,” he calls after a beat. “Are they gone?”

“Yes, Sergeant. They’re riding the elevator.”

“Oh thank _fuck_.”

-

Bucky limps back to the bedroom. Steve’s exactly where Bucky left him, sprawled out on the bed. There’s something insolent about him, from the smirk playing on his lips to the jaunty curve of his cock.

Or maybe Bucky’s just projecting.

“Asshole,” he hisses, slamming the bedroom door shut. “I cannot fucking believe you.”

Steve grins, and everything about it is too sharp. Bucky’s stomach swoops. He strips with barely controlled violence.

“I heard you out there,” Steve says, voice deep with that telltale rumble. “So rude, and all they wanted was to be nice to you. Winnie would have tanned your hide for being such a bad host.”

“I don’t need ‘em to be nice to me,” Bucky grits out, stalking over to the bed. “I need your fucking knot.”

“Come and get it,” Steve taunts, spreading his legs wider. “And hey, it’s sweet that they’re trying. Maybe your grumpy ass grew on them. Acquired taste and all.”

Bucky throws himself on Steve violently, relishing his pained exhale.

“You don’t get to breathe a word about my grumpy ass. You know damn well how you used to be.”

“I grew on you, didn’t I?” Steve says, and this time, his smile’s too soft for words.

Bucky kisses it off his lips. He bites down hard, makes Steve bleed, and licks the blood off his lips. Steve’s chest rumbles with a low growl, and his grip on Bucky turns bruising. Bucky tears away, and he doesn’t go far, just scrambles back to finish what he started. Steve’s cock is half-hard already and fills further in Bucky’s grip. He makes a fist around the base where Steve’s knot lies dormant and watches Steve’s eyes turn almost black.

Steve throws his head back with a groan when Bucky sinks down on him.

The sudden fullness tears a cry out of him too. It’s a little dry, not enough to hurt when Bucky’s been fucked so wide open, but it’s still there in the strangely thick friction. Bucky doesn’t pause, just braces himself and sets a rhythm that has Steve makes rough, punched-out noises. That alone is satisfying, but Bucky’s body is diligent in reminding him that he hasn’t come, cock red and painfully hard where it bounces between his legs.

He reaches for it, desperate for release, but Steve’s hand flies out to knock it away.

“Steve,” Bucky whines, struggling ineffectually against the grip Steve’s got on his wrist. “C’mon, I did what you said, please.”

“You can come,” Steve says, free hand stroking Bucky’s hair, deceptively gentle before he grabs some in his fist. “But you’re doing it on my cock or not at all.”

“That’s not fair,” Bucky manages to gasp, just before Steve starts moving, hips driving up viciously, plunging Bucky into breathless silence.

“You can do it,” Steve says, and he sounds a little wrecked himself. “I know you can, baby.”

Bucky rides him faster. The room echoes with the wet, violent noises of their bodies slamming together. Bucky tries to say Steve’s name, but the words spill from him in mangled bursts, fucked out of him with each thrust. Steve’s no better, eyes clenched shut as he screws into Bucky like he wants to split him in two.

Bucky knows he can come without even a touch on his cock, knows what he needs for it.

“More,” he manages to gasp, scoring angry red lines down Steve’s chest. “Gimme – need more.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s tone’s a warning all on its own. “I’ll give you more, Buck.”

And he does, both hands clamping down on Bucky’s hips and keeping him in place as Steve fucking drills into him, lifting him off and slamming him down to meet each, brutal thrust. It’s – god, it’s good, so good, and Bucky feels like it’s ripping him up inside, tearing him at the seams, but it’s not enough, it’s not what he needs.

“S-Steve! Steve, no, I need – more, please, please, you know–”

“Know what?”

“Please,” Bucky begs, voice breaking.

“Tell me what you need.”

Steve’s growling now, teeth bared, breath and words ragged as he somehow _doubles_ his pace. If they looked in a mirror, Steve’s hips would be a blur and Bucky a trembling pile of need held in place on top of him.

“Your knot!” It’s a scream, Bucky’s voice rising into a fever-pitch. “Knot me, give it to me, I need it, Steve, _Steve_, I’ve been so good, just give me–”

Steve sits up suddenly. He’s buried balls-deep in Bucky, and the change in position makes their bodies grind together. It’s almost painful, and Bucky can’t stop clenching around Steve, walls milking his cock like he’s already coming.

“I’ll give it to you,” Steve says, and that’s all the warning Bucky gets before he’s being fucked within an inch of his life.

Steve moves him like a ragdoll. Inhuman strength is corded through his muscles, and all of it’s turned on Bucky’s fucked-out body, and there’s nothing he can do but cling to Steve and take it, shouting high and loud until even those subside into faint little whimpers.

He feels it, then, the bulge at the base. Steve hisses through his teeth when his burgeoning knot plows right through Bucky’s hole which grips at it desperately, aching for the insane stretch of it. But Steve doesn’t stop moving, and his knot pulls out, tugging painfully at Bucky’s rim, and it’s that what sends him over, the flare of pain and the sudden, searing hollowness.

Bucky comes screaming, cock shooting all over their stomachs. Steve fucks back into him, forcing his way past convulsing muscles, pushing and _pushing_ until his knot pops inside.

Bucky cries out, gut twisting hot like he’s coming again. His walls tighten frantically around Steve’s knot, and it’s like he pulls Steve’s orgasm out of him. Come fills him up, drenching his insides in another layer of slick heat. Bucky’s own cock gives a last, helpless twitch, lying spent in its own mess.

Steve’s no better, slumped over panting. He’s shaking like the exertion is only now catching up to him. Bucky wants to lie down, press every inch of his bare skin on Steve’s, but he can’t when he’s straddling Steve and caught on his knot.

Steve stirs to life then, blinking slow and heavy like he’s shaking sleep out of his eyes. He pats absently along Bucky’s sides and starts, slowly, to lie back down. But it doesn’t matter how slow and careful he is – Bucky’s stretched around his knot and sensitive to the slightest shifts. He whimpers, clawing at Steve’s shoulders, his chest, grasping for the slightest shred of composure. 

“Hey, hey, s’okay,” Steve hushes, and god, he sounds drunk on it. “You’re alright, Buck. So good, feels so – good.”

“I’m _full_,” Bucky sobs, and he can’t help it, can’t stop it; his body keeps twitching around Steve’s knot, making him gasp and choke on the sheer, damning size of it.

Steve strokes his face, pushing wet clumps of hair back from his forehead.

“I know,” he says, quiet and strained. His eyes are still black. “Takes me so well, Buck. Never had anyone take a knot like you. Made for me, baby. Fuckin’ perfect.”

The praise washes over Bucky, sweet and warm.

“Say that again.”

Steve blinks, eyes bright, and a smile flashes across his mouth.

“Yeah? You like that, knowing no one’s ever felt this good around me? It’s the truth. Got the hottest, tightest hole I’ve ever fucked, sweetheart. Like you were made for this, meant for this, sittin’ pretty on my knot.”

Bucky’s been told he’s meant for a lot of things, most of them bloody and violent. They were just words to the Soldier, sliding over a mind sharpened and primed with just one purpose.

But Bucky’s nowhere near as impervious to that filthy drop in Steve’s voice as it showers him with the sweetest, dirtiest praise, and why would he ever want to be?

“Kiss me,” he says, tugging at Steve’s hair.

Steve rises to kiss him, and it makes his knot shift inside Bucky and pull at his rim. Steve eats the whine out of Bucky’s mouth and licks inside, holding Bucky close as he tastes him good and deep.

Like this, Bucky’s swallowed in Steve, stuffed full and held in arms that gather his tired body close. It’s easy to melt into it and let Steve have all of him, every bit of Bucky safe in his hungry grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the most contrived interruption so far, but you gotta do what you gotta do. For the record, Nat thinks Bucky brought someone home and locked Steve in a guest room or something for privacy, _not_ that he’s fucking a wolf.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts <3


	4. how you laughed when you said my name (and how you gripped my hips so mean)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve groans. It turns into a growl halfway through. His muscles ripple under Bucky’s hands and against his body. It’s nothing like the lightning-swift shift from wolf to man and back. Fur sprouts over smooth skin and sinks back inside before Bucky’s right palm can even tingle from the momentary brush. The flesh doesn’t bleed, doesn’t tear, and when Steve groans, it’s because he’s grinding his hard cock into the warm crease of Bucky’s thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That “Animalistic Sex” tag? Well, we’re finally earning it. A lot. You can [find me here](https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. 
> 
> And Happy New Year! May 2020 be less fucked 🎊

When it’s all said and done, Bucky puts the blame squarely on coincidence and deems it a capricious _asshole_.

They’ve been to New York three times in the span of ten months. Clint has started cracking jokes about setting a permanent floor aside for Bucky as with the rest of them, and Bucky doesn’t tell him that it’s bad enough that Tony has to play host to parents’ killer a few times a year. He won’t bring it up if Tony doesn’t. They manage to interact civilly most of them time. He repairs Bucky’s arm whenever it’s damaged. Bucky has saved Tony’s life once or twice. They get along. No need to upset the equilibrium.

They all get along, oddly enough. Even Steve’s a part of the team, though he still hasn’t shown them what he really is. Everyone seems sold on the hyperintelligent mutant wolf theory, and Bucky’s not sure whether he wants to pop that nice balloon. Steve seems ambivalent on the matter.

Later, he’ll think that if the others knew the truth, the whole mess would have been, well, less messy, but that’s hindsight for you.

-

The jet lands in a clearing to the south of Bucky’s cabin. Bucky watches grimly as the masking technology is deactivated and the jet shimmers into view.

Steve’s nowhere to be seen.

It was the full moon last night, and Steve left early in the morning. Bucky got the call towards midnight, and he’d have said no; Fury usually makes it very easy to say no, not because he’s kind and accommodating but because he’s a caustic bastard whom Bucky loves to piss off. But there’s some killer robot on the loose in Lithuania, and the Avengers are barely containing the fucker, and it’s not even that Bucky thinks he alone can change the tides, just that he’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t try. The Avengers are a bunch of dysfunctional assholes, but they’re dysfunctional assholes he tentatively calls friends. They’re good people.

But god, he wants to tell Steve, wants to see him, but it’s almost dawn and the jet’s here, and Bucky doesn’t how much longer he can afford to wait.

“Barnes,” Hill calls, dressed in tac gear and armed to the teeth. She waves him over impatiently.

“Wait,” he yells back. “Steve!”

It’s both a call and an explanation. Hill shakes her head but stays on the ramp, arms crossed over her chest. Steve’s name seems to echo in the forest, but neither man nor wolf answers.

Bucky waits another five minutes, crawling out of his skin the whole time.

He knows how Steve gets after a full moon, every instinct dialed up to eleven, more wolf than human. And all of it’s turned on Bucky, love and lust and something that defies words all twisted up into the kind of attention that leaves Bucky sore for days and sated beyond words.

He doesn’t know how Steve will react when he comes back to the cabin to find it empty, and fuck, he doesn’t want to imagine it either. It won’t be pretty, and Bucky has one hell of a liability, going into the field like this, but what the fuck else can he do?

“Barnes,” Hill calls again, sharper this time.

Bucky lets out an explosive sigh and starts walking towards the jet. With each step, he keeps waiting for Steve to appear, but he doesn’t. Bucky stops short of the ramp and turns back at the tree line, searching desperately for golden fur and gleaming blue eyes.

There’s nothing there.

“Fuck.”

“Your wolf will be fine, Barnes, we don’t have _time_.”

Bucky bites back what he wants to say, namely that his wolf most certainly won’t be fine. He firmly turns away from the forest and marches into the jet. He passes Hill when he hears it.

A howl that rends the air, long and loud and violent.

“Motherfucker,” Hill whispers.

Bucky whips around.

The creature’s a blur of gold and growls, bounding across the clearing with long, arching leaps that no normal wolf could ever make. It’s the kind of sight that could stop a man’s heart, make him believe in monsters.

But Bucky knows this monster _in_ his heart.

Steve clears the ramp in one leap, and Bucky has to scramble back to avoid being tackled to the floor. Steve snarls, but his head is turned towards Hill, who’s got her gun drawn and pointed at him.

Bucky throws himself forward, crashing gracelessly into Steve and grabbing him in a hold that’s both embrace and restraint.

Steve growls, a sound that raises the hairs on Bucky’s arm. He feels bigger than usual. The muscled neck Bucky’s clinging to seems to _shift_ under his arms, something live and liquid pulsing under Steve’s skin. It’s unsettling, makes Bucky’s gut crawl up his throat, but he holds on tighter, pressing his whole body to Steve’s.

“Hill,” he says very quietly. “Put the fucking gun down, he can tear you apart just fine with bullets in him.”

That’s not a lie. Steve has quite a few tales about his encounters with Hydra. It’s not that they never managed to hurt him, only that it didn’t matter when it did. Nothing much could stop a pissed off werewolf.

Hill says nothing. She doesn’t lower the gun, but she backs up a step. Steve’s whole body rumbles around a sound his human throat can never make.

“Steve, Steve, _Stevie_, look at me.”

Bucky tries to turn Steve’s snout towards him. It’s an easy, familiar motion, but there’s a tension in Steve’s body that is completely alien. He growls in warning when Bucky touches his face.

“Barnes!”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, keeping his voice low and soothing. “Steve? Come on, pal, you know me. You came here for me, didn’t you?”

He tries again, nudging Steve’s snout gently towards him. It’s not even his metal arm. If Steve decides to take bite out of Bucky, he’ll lose his whole hand. And Steve will never forgive himself.

“You know me,” Bucky whispers, half-burying his face in the thick fur at Steve’s neck. That odd, pulsing thing happens again, like there’s molten flesh shifting under layers of fur and skin.

Steve slowly turns to Bucky.

His breath smells like blood, and there’s something peering out of his eyes that Bucky doesn’t quite recognize.

“Barnes,” Hill says, and he can’t tell whether it’s fear or concern that turns her voice brittle.

“It’s fine,” he repeats. Slowly, he raises both hands to Steve’s face, framing it between them, fingers sinking into thick fur. “We’re fine. He’s just worried.”

“Like hell,” she says.

Steve growls again.

“You’re not helping, Hill,” Bucky says, not looking away from Steve’s eyes. “I thought we were in a hurry. So hurry.”

“Your pet’s coming with us?”

“He ain’t no one’s pet. But yeah, Steve’s coming. You can sure as hell use the manpower.”

Hill mutters something that Bucky doesn’t register because Steve chooses that moment to shove up into Bucky’s space. That big, wet nose pokes into his cheek, snuffling. Bucky opens his mouth, not quite sure what to say but wanting to say something, and gets wolf tongue in his mouth for his trouble.

He pulls away, sputtering and wiping his mouth. His mouth tastes of blood now, and it should probably be gross, but Steve’s blood-soaked mouth pressing to his is common enough these days. The only difference is that he’s usually two-legged when he does.

Steve makes a sound, not quite angry but not very pleased either.

Bucky kisses his nose.

“I know,” he whispers, quiet enough that only the two of them will hear. “I’ll explain – later, baby. When we’re alone. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t warn you.”

Steve rumbles but pushes his nose against Bucky’s mouth again. He’s not sure whether that’s forgiveness or something else. This isn’t usually how their post-full moon romp goes. Bucky knows what he prefers.

He pitches forward, buries his face in Steve’s scruff. The strange shifting under his skin is still there, but not as strongly as before. The scent of him, earth and rust, is comforting.

Distantly, Bucky is aware of the jet taking off and Hill saying something, but he stays like that, hiding in Steve’s warmth as his heartbeat slows.

-

In the end, he doesn’t get to explain jackshit to Steve, not for a while.

There are killer robots ripping apart Kaunas, and they’re trying their best to rip into the Avengers too. It’s a raging mess, and that’s what the three of them wade into. Hill gets separated from him and Steve five minutes in.

Then again, looking at Steve, Bucky thinks that it’s very likely that she decided to take her chances with the robots rather than Steve.

It’s not the first or the fifth time Steve is fighting alongside the Avengers. He’s as destructive as any of them, but before, it was clear to even the most oblivious of observers that Steve’s no mere animal. He mauled and maimed but rarely killed, and he worked _with_ the team, complying perfectly with Peggy’s shouted commands.

This fight’s different.

Steve’s savage, throwing his powerful bulk at the robots, a raging mass of fur and teeth. The sounds of rending metal ring in Bucky’s ears. The others curse in his comms when they catch sight of Steve, but it’s surprise, not complaint. A hulking wolf ripping through the robots is only helpful at this juncture. Their concern can wait for later, even Bucky’s.

He loses track of how long they fight, but he doesn’t lose track of Steve. He’s always close to Bucky, a whirlwind of violence that never strays far from where Bucky’s mowing down his own share of robots. They’re irritatingly sturdy but not very bright; it’s the sheer number of them that’s the problem. The guy who made them has been caught, but that hasn’t stopped his loving creations from continuing to wreak havoc.

At least it gives Steve a good outlet for his violent energy.

And once it’s finally over, once Bucky and the other Avengers are panting for breath amidst heaps of scrap metal, once Steve has run out of metal to tear into – that’s when he howls.

It’s a terrifying sound, nothing like the howls that reverberate in the forest on full moon nights. Steve and his wolves tug at Bucky sometimes, their call crawling under his skin in a way that Steve says is the aftereffect of the failed bite. But this sound wraps around everything primal inside of him and makes it _cower_.

“What the fuck,” Tony whispers in the comms.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He can’t take his eyes off Steve, staring mesmerized at the figure he makes, standing amidst the ruins of what he killed, fur raised and head thrown back.

He stops after a long time, the howl tapering off, and silence reigns.

The spell breaks.

-

Bucky gets a few curious glances as they all trudge back to the tower. He’s slumped in a seat with Steve curled up at his feet. Even lying down, he cuts an intimidating figure. It doesn’t help that he keeps glaring at anyone who’s within ten feet of Bucky and almost bit Tony’s hand off the one time he tried to comment on it.

Peggy, ever the brave leader, is the one who finally broaches the topic.

“Bucky, is everything alright with you and Steve?”

It’s an opening to come clean. _It was the full moon_, he could say. _Steve’s a werewolf, you see_. _We usually fuck until he calms down, but saving the world took priority and now he’s frustrated, I’m frustrated, and no one’s having a fun day._

For some reason, he can’t see that going over very well right now.

“We’re fine,” he says instead.

Literally no one looks convinced, but they don’t push. Bucky’s resting bitch face combined with Steve’s obvious irritation is an excellent deterrent. Even Natasha doesn’t do more than eye them speculatively.

The ride seems to last forever. Bucky’s not particularly happy when they’re at the tower either. He wants to go home, he wants to take Steve home, and Steve seems to be no less irked at being in the city.

“Debrief in two hours,” Peggy says. Even she sounds tired. Looks it too, covered in sweat and grime, her hair matted with dirt. “Freshen up, then come back.”

Bucky could use a shower or ten.

Looking at Steve all but vibrating in the elevator, he gets the feeling that a shower will be far off in his future.

The door to their floor clicks shut, and Steve bursts out of his skin.

He takes his time transforming, usually. It’s never not a strange sight, bones and skin and muscle contorting into an utterly new shape. But this time, it’s violent, the wolf skin folding under the force with which Steve throws himself into his human form.

He lurches towards Bucky, who opens his arms for him and lets their combined weight slam him against the wall. He grunts at the impact, but it turns into a gasp when Steve breathes open-mouthed on his throat, tongue swiping wetly over Bucky’s pounding pulse. Bucky bares his throat on instinct and is rewarded with Steve’s teeth sinking into the juncture between neck and shoulder.

Steve grows, Bucky’s flesh still caught between his teeth.

“Steve,” he whines, scrabbling at Steve’s bare back. “I’m here, baby, ssh, what do you need?”

Steve raises his head. His eyes are glowing when they meet Bucky’s.

“You,” he says, growl darkening his voice.

“Anything,” Bucky promises instantly, meaning every syllable. “You’ve got me, Steve, anything you want.”

Steve leans in with intent, and there’s little doubt what he wants. Carter gave them two hours, but Bucky’s got the feeling that he’s not going to make it.

“JARVIS,” Bucky manages to say just before Steve’s mouth meets his. “Go dark.”

“Engaging, Sergeant Barnes.”

A quiet ping indicates JARVIS shutting off all surveillance. Bucky’s too busy sucking on Steve’s tongue to thank JARVIS.

Steve’s hands slide under his ass and lifts, effortless like Bucky’s made of feathers. He wraps his legs around Steve, and it’s easy to trust him, always has been, and not even fucking Hydra could take that away from him. It’s not very comfortable, not in tac gear, but there’s something appealing about being fully-clothed and wrapped around Steve’s naked heat.

Steve runs clawed hands along Bucky’s thighs and up his back, fingernails sharp enough to tear into the armored fabric.

“Let me down,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s jaw, peppering the sharp bone with sweet kisses. “I’ll take it off, then you can – _son of a bitch_.”

Cool air hits Bucky’s back, chilling the strip of skin bared by Steve straight up ripping his suit down the middle. His pants endure the same fate, and it takes everything Bucky’s got to cling to Steve as his joints go weak and loose.

He still has to scramble down to pick off the torn fabric from his body. Bucky’s fingers are shaky and clumsy, and he drops the weapons with far less care than he usually bothers with. Steve’s no help, standing there like a muscled wall, crowding Bucky in without laying a finger on him. His breaths are slow and deep, and when Bucky looks at his face, he finds Steve’s eyes bright with that same, strange something that peered out at Bucky from his lupine face.

Once he’s naked, Bucky cups Steve’s face between his hands.

“Come here,” he murmurs. “What do you need?”

Steve presses close to Bucky, slotting their bodies together, drowning Bucky in the heat of them. He kisses like he wants to swallow Bucky whole. His hands are everywhere, his nail tips sharper, not quite claws but also not the blunt edges he usually clips them into. Bucky gasps open-mouthed around Steve’s teeth and tongue, body tingling pleasantly from the scrape of nails. They’ll draw blood before this is over, Bucky’s sure of that, and even the thought of it riles him up, gets him humping Steve’s leg like he’s the animal here.

Steve cups his ass, squeezing tight and spreading them wide, one thumb sliding between to rub at Bucky’s hole. The nail prods the rim, a sharp sting that pulls a hiss out of Bucky.

“Wait, wait,” he says, pulling his mouth away. Steve stills, the air heavy with the weight of his attention. “I don’t – we don’t have anything there, the bedroom–”

Bucky tries to tug Steve in the direction of the bedroom, but Steve doesn’t budge. He humors Bucky for all of five seconds before slamming him back to the wall and pinning him there with his body.

“Okay,” Bucky squeaks, dick throbbing between his legs, so fucking easy. “Here is fine, here is good.”

Steve drops to his knees, and Bucky’s cock starts leaking like that will seduce Steve into taking it into his mouth.

It works, sort of. Steve does lean in, rubbing his lips around Bucky’s cockhead. Precome smears wetly along his plush pink lips, the sight alone making Bucky clench up everywhere. But then he just – nuzzles, rubbing his mouth and nose along Bucky’s length, burying face in his crotch, in the crease of his thigh. He can hear Steve breathe, dragging in the air like he wants to inhale Bucky’s _skin_. It’s intimate in the strangest way, and Bucky doesn’t quite know what to do other than stand there and blush.

“Steve?” he calls, face flaming hotter when Steve hums quietly against Bucky’s crotch. “What are you – oh, oh, _fuck_.”

There’s a finger all pressed up against his hole now, rubbing gently, sharp nail kept carefully away, like that’ll get Bucky to open up. And he wants to, fuck he’d take it if he could, will his body to go loose and easy, but he can’t. And Steve seems to remember that because he pulls back with one last breath that trembles along Bucky’s skin and grabs his hip with one hand.

“Turn around,” he orders, and Bucky damn near faceplants on the wall in his haste to listen.

Steve doesn’t waste time. He spreads Bucky wide and buries his face in his ass, and it’s all Bucky can do to keep his legs under him as Steve starts to eat him out with an urgency that borders on frenzy.

Bucky buries his face in his arms and pants, Steve’s name caught between ragged breaths. Steve’s – fuck, he’s fucking filthy down there, and it’s not like he’s ever been shy when it came to burying his tongue inside Bucky, but there’s a certain messiness to what he’s doing now that wraps tightly around Bucky’s horny hindbrain and gets the whole of him shaking. He doesn’t know how he manages to keep standing on his weak, trembling knees when Steve seals his mouth around his hole and _sucks_.

“Please, please, please, please,” someone’s chanting, begging, and it takes Bucky far too long to realize it’s him.

Steve pulls back with one last swipe of his tongue over Bucky’s sopping wet hole. Bucky staggers away from the wall and doesn’t wait for Steve to manhandle him into position. He drops to all fours, raising his ass in the air, enticement and permission.

Steve settles between his legs, pressing his hips to Bucky’s ass and letting him feel how fucking hard he is.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky doesn’t know if it’s a question that makes his voice dip at the end, but he’s only got the one answer.

“Yes,” he says. “C’mon. I can take it.”

And he can, he knows he can. It’ll hurt because Steve’s dangerously proportional and a bitch to take even without his dick’s tendency to grow a goddamn grapefruit at the base. But Bucky’s a damn champ at taking him, he likes it when it hurts, and Steve fucking knows it.

Bucky grinds back a little, rubbing up against Steve’s cock. Hands grasp his hips, a bruising clutch that makes his blood burn.

“Fuck me, Steve. Make me yours.”

That does the trick.

a It’s rare that he gets nonverbal like this, but it does happen, usually after full moon nights but sometimes after a hunt too, when Steve drills into Bucky while his wolves howl outside in the woods.

It’s different now, and Bucky can take a good guess as to why. Steve’s used to coming home to Bucky after a full moon, not to robots and strangers and violence. They’ll have to talk about it later, once Bucky can no longer see Steve’s skin shuddering like something wants to crawl out of it.

Bucky listens, anticipation tightening his guts, to the sound of spitting and wet friction. Steve’s cock feels hot and fucking huge when it prods at Bucky’s hole, and it doesn’t matter that he’s loose and wet from Steve’s mouth, it’s still not easy, still burns, and Bucky moans like a whore through every searing second of it.

And then Steve’s in, a long eternity later, and Bucky’s left panting around a cock that feels like it’s splitting him wide from navel to throat.

Steve stays still, letting him adjust, but there’s no such thing as respite when Bucky’s so damn _full_. He keeps clenching around Steve, even the lightest breath setting him off. Steve doesn’t seem to be faring any better. Bucky can hear his shuddering breaths and feel the desperate clench of his hands on Bucky’s hips.

The cock inside Bucky shifts, and all of him sparks up. He doesn’t notice Steve moving until his weight settles on top of Bucky, warm and heavy.

Then he starts moving.

The first thrust makes his elbows buckle. Steve follows him down, arms on either side of Bucky as he starts to fuck him in earnest, thrusts sloppy and frantic, like Steve can think of nothing other than crawling deep and then deeper into Bucky. It’s maddening, the heat and the friction. Bucky whines into his arms, wanting, _needing_ to move, away or into Steve, he doesn’t know, but held in place by Steve’s stifling weight and the cock screwing into his ass. That gets him hot too, perversely, the sensation of being held down and fucked full knotting tight in his gut.

“Bucky,” Steve groans, his voice a weak, wrecked thing.

Bucky doesn’t register it as a warning until Steve shoves in savagely and starts to swell. He screams as Steve’s knot stretches him obscenely open, the pressure sudden and shocking. Sheer heat follows, Steve’s come drenching him inside, filling him to the brim with nowhere for it to go.

Steve never comes this fast, _never_, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do except writhe and whimper on his knot. Steve mouths at his shoulder, sucking wet kisses and laving his tongue over spots that make Bucky shiver. He’s trying to be sweet, to soothe, but Bucky’s losing his mind under him, the whole of him narrowed to the red-hot stretch of Steve’s knot.

The touch on his cock catches him off-guard, the fucking theme for the night. He bucks up, but there’s nowhere to go with Steve keeping him pinned where he wants him, and the hand on his cock feels good, a firm pressure that turns electric when Steve starts stroking him. It’s almost too much, the stretch inside him and the pleasure spearing through him, and Bucky keens with it. He can’t even grind into Steve’s hand, he can’t, and he’s left there, trapped between two points of sensation, shaking apart.

He comes clenching hard around Steve, a growl in his ear and a hand cupping his cockhead to gather the mess. Steve just holds him through it, letting Bucky make a mess of his hand and milking his cock through each, gut-wrenching pulse of pleasure.

And then he smears Bucky’s come along the softening length of him, and it _hurts_, how he tightens around Steve with a little whine.

Steve – he – he does _something_; Bucky’s addled mind registers the tug inside of him, just a faint sting at first and then a sharper, tearing ache that gets him sobbing, shouting.

Steve pulls out, just like that, and Bucky’s left gaping, gushing come as he tries to cling to a knot that’s suddenly not there.

Fingers slide into his hair, stroking gently. Steve makes hushing noises, or at least he tries. There’s that rumble in his voice, and his nails are sharper now. The wolf’s close to the surface, thrumming under his skin, and Bucky can _taste_ it.

Steve fucks back into him, and this time, Bucky doesn’t even have the breath to scream.

He bottoms out on the first thrust, and it’s unmistakable, the insistent press of a half-formed knot at the base of his cock. Bucky makes a high, confused noise but can’t form words, tongue dry and leaden in his mouth. He whines as his body rocks back and forth, a puppet strung along by the brutal tug of Steve’s cock, the teasing press of his knot. Steve’s loud above him, growling, grunting, the sounds growing more and more animalistic with every moment.

And then he’s thrusting in hard, entire body crashing down on Bucky, and coming, knot swelling.

Bucky keens as he’s filled up again, but the sound dies out in a whimper when teeth sink into his nape, breaking skin and not letting go. Steve growls around his mouthful, the sound a low, triumphant thing that makes Bucky go quiet and limp.

His own cock is half-hard again. He can’t breathe without choking on the insane stretch of Steve’s knot. It feels bigger, and Bucky’s sure that’s just his sore ass talking but doesn’t matter why because it still _feels bigger_.

“Steve,” he manages after a few seconds suspended in heat. He sounds drunk. “Hurts.”

Steve’s teeth slide out of his skin. The relief burns. Bucky sinks into the floor with a soft, wounded sound. A warm tongue starts lapping at the back of his neck, lapping up the blood and soothing the hurt. Bucky whimpers again, cock throbbing in time to the sound.

Steve starts moving, rocking into Bucky. Their bodies, locked together, don’t let him move much, but he doesn’t pull out like last time. Bucky tenses in anticipation of it, but all that does it make him tighten around Steve’s knot, the sensation setting off another wave of contractions that get him clawing at the floor and keening pitifully.

“What’s happening,” he gasps, shuddering all the way down to his fingertips when Steve sucks at the wound his teeth made, wet and hot and maddening. “What are you _doing_?”

“Mine,” Steve says, voice rich with a chilling blend of need and rage and satisfaction.

“’Course I’m yours,” Bucky tells him, and maybe it’s his tone, fuck-drunk and shredded, that makes Steve rumble with pleasure and screw his hips in, hard and good. The rest of Bucky’s words die in his lungs. All that escapes is a shuddering cry.

Steve licks at his nape again. The wound is already healing but bleeds sluggishly against Steve’s tongue. Bucky whines when Steve sucks on it, drinking him in. He’s a werewolf, not a vampire, but Bucky questions that sometimes. But really, Bucky’s the one who doesn’t have any excuse for how he gets cross-eyed at the blood and the pain.

Steve’s knot goes down, and his cock, finally soft, slips out of Bucky, come gushing out in its wake. It’s objectively disgusting, but the lazy trickle of it down his thighs and the almost physical weight of Steve’s gaze just makes Bucky’s dick swell more.

He’s flipped over suddenly. Steve doesn’t even seem to feel any strain, and Bucky feels small and weightless under his hands. His ass smarts when it hits the floor, a thousand tiny aches, but then Steve gets his mouth on Bucky’s cock and everything else is a grey haze.

It's quick. Steve’s got no finesse, and it’s maybe the messiest head he’s given since that first time, when he dropped to his knees, reed-thin frame tense with determination. Bucky’s mouth was too dry for words, though he wanted to say it was okay, that Steve didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to, though he knew even then that saying any of that would only have pissed Steve off.

It’s a strange moment to remember now, when his mind’s going white and blank from the wet heat of Steve’s mouth, but there’s something seductive about the history they share, heartbreak and triumph all rolled into one.

Bucky comes shouting into Steve’s mouth, bucking his hips and shuddering when Steve takes him deeper into his throat.

Steve’s eyes are glowing when he pulls back. His hair is longer, jaw sharper, and when he stretches his body over Bucky’s, his joints groan and his muscles bulge. Bucky reaches for him with both hands, groping desperately over his warm, sweaty skin. He digs his nails into Steve’s shoulder, bones that once felt like they’d snap under a careless touch now buried under thick muscle that Bucky can barely get his hands around.

“Easy,” Bucky whispers, guiding Steve down into a kiss. “I’m here.”

“Sorry,” Steve gasps against his mouth, voice thin and strained. “I can’t – I should go, I should–”

“Ssh,” Bucky says, kissing the words out of Steve’s mouth. “It’s alright.”

He spreads his legs and wraps them around Steve’s hips. His dick pokes into Bucky’s thigh, the tip wet, and he’s sure that Steve’s refractory period isn’t usually this insane, but somehow, Bucky’s not surprised.

“Bucky,” Steve says, and he sounds pained the way he does when there’s something he wants to say but can’t. “I need to–”

“I know, I know,” Bucky says, crooning almost. “You can.”

“I’ll hurt you.”

“Then I’ll scream for you. You like that, don’t you, Stevie?”

Steve groans. It turns into a growl halfway through. His muscles ripple under Bucky’s hands and against his body. It’s nothing like the lightning-swift shift from wolf to man and back. Fur sprouts over smooth skin and sinks back inside before Bucky’s right palm can even tingle from the momentary brush. The flesh doesn’t bleed, doesn’t tear, and when Steve groans, it’s because he’s grinding his hard cock into the warm crease of Bucky’s thigh.

Bucky’s wet and empty, clenching around nothing, again and again.

“Please,” he says, mouth open over Steve’s jaw. “Inside me, please.”

“Bucky, I–”

He gives Steve a minute, then another, but there are no words, and there’s a fire under Bucky’s skin that flares hotter each time Steve’s body pulses above him with a suppressed shift.

“As many times as you want,” he promises, and he knows he sounds eager, desperate, doesn’t fucking care. “I’ll take it, you know I can, come on.”

Steve bares his teeth, snarling, but it’s not anger that makes his muscles tighten into silken steel.

“I _want_ it,” Bucky rasps, and that does the trick.

He thrusts, and it’s clumsy, cock sliding against Bucky’s inner thigh and, when he arches his back for a better angle, between his cheeks. There’s something unbearably filthy about it, and it’s surreal that the impatience which smears precome against his already messy skin makes Bucky blush when being on his knees for Steve rarely does. He likes it, the flush of heat that’s not quite embarrassment.

And then Steve catches his rim, and he’s loose from Steve’s cock and slick from his come, and it slides home like it’s meant to be.

Bucky throws his head back, gasping at the sheer fullness, and screams, good and loud, when Steve sinks his teeth into his bared neck. They slide deep into skin and doesn’t ease up when Steve starts fucking him with harsh, grinding rolls of his hips. Blood trickles down his shoulder, but it’s the throbbing heat of Steve’s teeth buried in his flesh that sparks electric down his spine. The movement of their bodies tugs at the edges of the wound, Steve’s teeth tearing at weak, easy flesh. It hurts, burns, and Bucky, he–

He feels like an animal, caught and mounted.

-

Carter’s two-hour mark comes and goes, and Steve doesn’t relent. He doesn’t seem to tire. His cock certainly doesn’t, and Bucky has moments where he thinks his ass has gone numb, at least until Steve thrusts at just the right angle and every fucking nerve inside of him lights up. It’s the kind of pleasure-pain hybrid that could break a man, and if Bucky’s physiology weren’t closer to that of Thor’s than Clint’s, he probably would have broken, mind and body.

What a fucking way to go though.

Steve makes a questioning sound against Bucky’s neck, and Bucky realizes he’s been giggling. He reaches back to slide his fingers through Steve’s hair, thick and clumped together with sweat and maybe come.

It’s a calmer moment. They shifted to the couch sometime between rounds four and five, and by shifted, Bucky means Steve hauled him up with his cock still inside him and carried him to the couch to fuck him on it. Still, it’s less frantic now. They’re almost resting, Bucky in Steve’s lap, back flush to his chest, the two of them knotted together. Steve’s hands are keeping Bucky’s thighs spread wide, a possessive show of support, and he doesn’t have to do anything except sit there, leaning back on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve’s still mostly nonverbal, but his skin has finally stopped rippling.

Bucky didn’t mind though. It wasn’t very scary. It was kind of hot, though that’s not a thought he’s very keen on examining right now.

“Nothin’,” he says, voice a hoarse whisper. He could use some water. “S’just–”

The elevator pings, quiet with the door between it and the rest of the floor, but loud enough for their enhanced hearing. Steve growls. His hands tighten on Bucky, who has just enough time to gasp Steve’s name before he’s bodily lifted off the knot in his ass.

It's gone down a little since they knotted, and Bucky’s sloppy loose from how hard he’s been fucked, but the rough tug of it on his rim still makes him see stars.

That’s all Steve does; he keeps Bucky sitting on his dick, stuffed full and useless.

“They can’t get inside,” Bucky tells him, yanking reproachfully at Steve’s hair. “JARVIS is–”

The universe and JARVIS prove him wrong as the entire fucking Avengers pour through the half-open door.

They come to a jerky halt a few feet inside. Peggy’s at the forefront, dressed in civilian clothes but with her shield in hand. Natasha and Tony flank her, Clint’s bringing up the rear, and Bucky doesn’t know whether to stare at the repulsors aimed squarely at him or the once-in-a-lifetime look of sheer shock on Natasha’s face.

Steve’s growl gets louder. Tony twitches, visible even with his armor.

“What the _fuck_?”

Bucky thinks he’s the one who asked the question, god knows he’d be justified. But no, it’s Tony, some strange emotion making his voice nigh unrecognizable.

“That’s my line,” he says after forcing his tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Maybe it’s the sharpness of his voice, maybe it’s just the fact that Bucky spoke – either way, Steve reacts, growl turning into a deep rumble that shudders through his entire body, which is pressed up against Bucky’s, hot and intimate. He loses his grip on his indignation, pleasure sinking its hook deep into all of him. He moans, just a little, and the Avengers take a collective step back.

“Get out,” Bucky gathers himself enough to stay. “I didn’t invite you for a fucking free show.”

The Iron Man’s face plate slides back with a too-loud click. He gesticulates wildly, face a picture of scandalized horror. It’s not every day that you see Tony fucking Stark reduced to speechlessness, and it’s a pity Bucky doesn’t have a single shit to give at the moment.

“You were screaming,” Clint says, and he sounds oddly calm.

His meaning takes a moment to sink it; a moment that stretches on a little too long because Steve starts moving, grinding up into Bucky and groping at his chest, rumbling threateningly the whole time.

“Shitty fucking time for a rescue mission, dumbfucks,” Bucky grits out, all too aware of his cock hardening, heedless of the audience.

“Where did he even _come_ from?” Tony asks the same time Peggy says, “We’re leaving. Now.”

“But–”

“Out,” Bucky snaps, a command accompanied by Steve’s angry snarling.

They get out, and every one of them except Peggy stares at Bucky and Steve as they back off. Natasha’s shock has faded into an expression unsettlingly like a smirk. The door shuts behind them.

“Sir overrode the privacy protocol,” JARVIS says suddenly, sounding genuinely apologetic despite his cool, artificial voice. “I tried to stop them, Sergeant.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, the words turning into a gasp when Steve starts bucking his hips, screwing in deep into Bucky. “I’ll talk to – oh, _oh_, god, Steve, _Steve_.”

Steve growls, _moves_, and in a blur, Bucky’s facedown on the couch, being drilled into from behind, and he doesn’t talk again for a long time after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now just a tiny epilogue to tie things up. Let me know if you liked this!


	5. i’ve got a boyfriend now (and he’s made of gold)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, it’s like ripping off a band-aid. Steve doesn’t have to knock on one of the connecting doors and wait for it to open and then wait some more for whoever it is on the other side to gather the rest. On the other hand, it’s like ripping off a band-aid. One moment, Steve’s happily sequestered in the elevator with only JARVIS for company, and the next, he’s facing a room full of Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!! Kinda.
> 
> I have a tumblr - [come say hi.](https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/)

Bucky’s dead to the world, and Steve’s got a bit of a dilemma.

Most of him wants to just cuddle up to Bucky’s blissfully knackered form and get some much-needed rest. Now that the frenzy has lifted, Steve’s clear-headed but also fucking exhausted. It’s been a long time since he spiraled so utterly out of control after a full moon, and the last time, it was because he was a newblood, not because an empty lair and missing mate drove his wolf half-crazy.

He's going to have to talk to Bucky about that, but Bucky won’t be waking up any time soon. Steve’s dick is chafed and raw; he’s scared to think of the state Bucky’s in.

Bucky didn’t complain though, not once. He was confused at the start and half dead with exhaustion by the end, but he let Steve take and take and _take_, legs spread and arms open.

Steve leans in to kiss his temple. Bucky doesn’t even stir, same as when Steve dragged his aching body out of the tangle of limbs they collapsed into and tried to clean up the two of them. Bucky just let Steve run a warm rag between his sticky thighs and over his red, swollen hole. And it said something about the cavernous need that Steve harbored for this beautiful man that the sight of it sent a fissure of heat to his gut despite how drained he was.

It really would be so nice to just curl up with Bucky and pass out.

But there’s that small, nagging voice in the back of his head that won’t quite allow it.

“You’re probably going to yell at me for this later,” Steve tells Bucky who’s unconscious and thus can’t yell at Steve at the moment. “Love you, Buck. I promise not to traumatize your friends more than I already have.”

That’s a pretty high bar given what happened a few hours ago.

Steve reluctantly dresses. All his animal instincts are close to the surface, and the wolf in him grumbles at being constrained by clothing. The human part isn’t too happy either. In the last seventy-something years, Steve has grown to associate nudity with freedom and power. He told Bucky he is man and wolf in equal measure, but there’s no strict delineation, no prettily drawn line where the man ends and the wolf begins. He’s both, and the duality goes soul-deep.

And fuck, he knows he’s nervous when he’s standing half-naked philosophizing about the nature of the self.

After a second of hesitation, he pulls on one of Bucky’s tops, a deep red Henley that’s saturated in the scent of him. It doesn’t fit Steve right; he’s both wider and narrower than Bucky in parts, but unease of having fabric on his skin is balanced out by the smells of _home_ and _mate_, and that’s worth a bit of tightness around the biceps.

Steve yanks the collar up to his nose and takes a huge, comforting whiff.

Then he sets out to face the Avengers.

-

“Are you sure, Mr. Rogers?” 

It’s not that Steve doesn’t already know this is a bad idea, but he doesn’t grasp how monumentally bad an idea it is until the resident AI voices his concern. He takes a moment to ponder over that.

He should stop thinking that his life can’t get any weirder. The universe seems to take that as a challenge.

“I’m sure, JARVIS,” he says, because Sarah Rogers, bless her soul, taught him to fucking commit to his decisions. Then, because she also raised him to be polite, he adds, “Thanks for the concern though.”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers.”

The elevator opens to the common floor.

On one hand, it’s like ripping off a band-aid. Steve doesn’t have to knock on one of the connecting doors and wait for it to open and then wait some more for whoever it is on the other side to gather the rest.

On the other hand, it’s like ripping off a band-aid. One moment, Steve’s happily sequestered in the elevator with only JARVIS for company, and the next, he’s facing a room full of Avengers.

Except Thor. Small mercies.

Or not. The alien god might be more open to werewolves than the…genetically engineered supersoldier, the spy with eyes sharper than any wolf Steve’s met, the sniper who wields a bow, the giant rage monster, and the guy who made himself far too many metal suits.

Bucky sure knows how to pick them.

“Hello,” Steve says when the assorted Avengers seem content to just stare at him with varying degrees of shock and deep suspicion. “This is awkward.”

He steps out of the elevator, mumbling a thanks to JARVIS for holding it open while Steve stood and gaped like an idiot. Five pairs of eyes follow his every move. Steve’s fairly sure that Doctor Banner wasn’t in the party that burst through their door, but he’s here now, hovering at the back of the group, looking almost as uncomfortable as Steve feels, though to fair, it’s partly the clothes that’s making Steve want to peel off his skin.

Captain Carter is the first to recover.

“I assume you’re Bucky’s…friend,” she says delicately. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t see you very well earlier.”

There’s a beat of silence that manages to be _extremely_ awkward.

Steve takes a moment to contemplate his response. He didn’t really think this through when he decided to come and face the music in hopes that he’d spare Bucky the worst of it.

But then, what can he say, really? It’s not like it can get worse. These people may not have seen his face, but they sure saw his dick. And Bucky’s.

Steve swallows a growl.

“I’m Steve,” he says.

Ripping off a band-aid. Seems to be the theme of the day.

This time, the ensuring silence is perplexed, right until Romanoff’s expression shifts into shocked understanding.

“You’re the wolf.”

“Technically,” Steve says, “I’m a werewolf.”

That earns him more of a reaction. A lot of reactions, actually. A bit too many even because though no one except Stark and Barton is outright yelling, they’re all very loud and very confused, and no matter how keen his hearing, Steve can’t pick out anything coherent from the cacophony.

“That’s not–”

“–be real–”

“–weren’t told–”

“–know, right, I mean, come on.”

“–should we really–”

“–of course it’s–”

“_Quiet_.”

It’s Carter, her voice booming with sudden violence. Everyone wisely falls silent. Steve admires the effect of her authority the way he always has, though his smile falters when she turns that deadly serious gaze on him.

“Explain.”

He valiantly resists the urge to drop to all fours and snarl.

Makes himself smile.

Probably has too much teeth. Carter doesn’t flinch, but Barton takes a step back and Romanoff’s suddenly got a knife in her hand.

Bad fucking idea. Even JARVIS said so. The moon’s still in his blood.

Steve takes a deep breath and tries to relax. All he has to do is explain. Less work for Bucky. Bucky doesn’t much like confrontations, and he likes these people despite himself, and this is Steve’s fault anyway.

“I’m not a Hydra experiment,” Steve says flatly, the good humor he tried to maintain earlier draining out. “I’m a werewolf. And Bucky’s my – well, he’s mine. We’re together.”

“We gathered,” Romanoff says, dry as a desert. “I knew Barnes might be seeing someone. Didn’t think he was fucking his wolf.”

Steve meets her clear grey gaze.

“I wasn’t the wolf when we were fucking. As you saw.”

She doesn’t flush, but she doesn’t hide her surprise in time either. Carter looks vaguely pained. The others all seem to want to be anywhere but here. Steve can imagine the mental image that flashed through their heads, because the brain is helpful that way, and he can’t even say he regrets it much.

“I…see,” Carter says in the end, tone implying that she does not indeed see. “Why did Barnes lie?”

Steve bites back another growl. He’s really not this testy usually. But then, this is time he should spend running through the forests and fucking Bucky in a nice, open meadow with the sounds of nature around them, and as nice as he’s trying to be, he knows who he blames.

“Because it was none of your business, Captain. I go where he goes. But that doesn’t mean the world needs to know what I am.”

“The world may not,” Stark says, “but we’re his teammates. Don’t we have a right to know?”

Steve just pins him with a look.

“Yes,” he says at length. “Because all of your foster an atmosphere of open sharing and unconditional acceptance.”

Silence falls again. Stark shifts, wearing his discomfort openly. Steve doesn’t miss Banner edging away until he’s out of the room entirely, and honestly, he doesn’t blame the man. The atmosphere is somewhat tense, and Steve’s not keen on meeting the Other Guy when they’re not on the same side.

He sighs.

“Listen, I’ve known Bucky for a long time. And he does trust you to have his back. But we’ve all got our secrets, and it was my choice too to keep the truth to ourselves. Neither of us expected it to come out quite like this. For what it’s worth, JARVIS knew from the first time I shifted, and he wouldn’t have kept it to himself if I was a threat.”

Stark looks very shifty all of a sudden. Steve cocks his head.

“Honestly, I thought he’d have told you by now that I’m the wolf. Cat’s out of the bag anyway.”

Stark actually shuffles in place.

“JARVIS is…not talking to me right now.”

“Ah.”

Steve already liked the AI, but he hearing that makes his affection damn near double in size. He tries to keep a smug grin off his face, but something must show because Stark scowls at him.

Carter pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Where’s Bucky?”

“Asleep. He’s…tired.”

The expression on all their faces say that they have an unsettlingly clear idea why Bucky’s passed out right now. Steve doesn’t miss the unsubtle glance Barton shoots his crotch either, though when Steve tries to catch his eyes, Barton flushes and looks away.

No one seems to know what to say. Steve’s unbearably tired between one breath and the next. He wants to go back to Bucky and curl around his warmth. He wants to be there when he wakes.

He’s said most of what he came here to say.

“Captain, everyone, I just wanted to come here and explain the situation before Bucky woke. I can’t speak for him, so if–”

The elevator pings.

Steve whips around, a heavy weight dropping into his gut when the doors slide open to reveal Bucky glaring balefully at the lot of them with bloodshot eyes and a bird’s nest for hair. He’s dressed, but his t-shirt is inside out and he’s only got boxers underneath.

And he’s limping.

Steve rushes forward, and Bucky gives him a superbly unimpressed glare but leans on Steve anyway, letting him wrap an arm around Bucky’s waist.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks quietly. “You should be resting.”

“Woke up,” Bucky bites out, “because my Steve senses were tingling.”

Steve opens his mouth and shuts it without saying a word. Bucky always has had an odd knack for finding which back alley Steve was getting beat up in. He hasn’t had much reason to use it in this century though.

“Bucky,” Romanoff says, breaking into their little world. “We met your boyfriend. Turns out we’d met him earlier. You could have told me I was trying to find you dates with the wrong gender.”

“I’m bisexual,” Bucky says, flat and disbelieving. “And gender was the least of my issues with your matchmaking, Natasha.”

It’s an unexpected exchange. But Natasha smirks and visibly relaxes, and Steve has to admit that the room feels a little less tense now.

“Wrong species then,” she says.

Bucky growls.

Steve’s absurdly proud of the sound.

“I used to be human,” he says before Bucky can insult her ancestors. He’s either very sweet or very grumpy when he’s tired and sleep deprived, and it’s an easy guess, which he is now. “Sure was when I met Bucky.”

“And when was that?” Stark pitches in. “You said you’ve known him for a long time, but Robocop here’s been out of Hydra’s tender clutches for what, four years? That’s not very long.”

_We’ve known him longer_ is the accusation in Stark’s narrowed eyes.

Bucky shifts. The surprised sound he makes is very soft, enough so that Steve’s certain no one else – except maybe Carter – has heard it. Steve squeezes his hip. He knows Bucky’s still got tense relations with Stark, but Steve thinks he’s the less surprised out of the two of them by Stark’s protectiveness. These guys are a weird team, but they are a team.

“Steve and I have known each other since – since we were kids,” Bucky says.

It takes a moment for that to sink in.

“Oh.”

It’s Carter. That’s not a surprise, really. They’re all the same age, in a way, but not at the same time.

She’s a woman out of time, and Bucky’s got pieces of himself scattered across history, but Steve has been present for every one of those years – years he wouldn’t have seen had he lived a natural life. He’d have barely made it to thirty with his faulty heart and breaking body.

“How?” she asks.

“Long story,” Bucky says. That’s all he says. He leans into Steve, silently passing the torch.

“We don’t age the same as humans,” Steve tells her. “I was turned around the same time Bucky went to war. Found him again in this century.”

Carter frowns. Stark has an expression that says he has so many questions that he doesn’t know which to ask first, and Romanoff’s eyes are narrowed in a way that’s entirely terrifying. Barton just seems to be going with the flow.

Bucky speaks before a single question can be voiced.

“Nope,” he says. All eyes turn to him. “No, I’m not answering questions right now, this isn’t a press conference. I came down because I knew this asshole–” He swats Steve’s chest. “–pulled some shit and ‘cause my bed was cold. Now, I’ve got a sore ass and need a week of sleep, so whatever burning questions you’ve got, they can wait. Good night.”

He starts dragging Steve to the elevator even before he’s quite finished speaking, and Steve stumbles along with him, slightly bemused and very smitten. Bucky takes one look at his face and sighs.

“Dumbass.”

No one stops them. The expressions Steve sees when he and Bucky climb into the elevator aren’t exactly reassuring, but Bucky’s right. They’ve told them the important bits. The rest can wait.

The ride to their floor is silent. Bucky’s half-slumped against Steve.

“Are you mad?” Steve asks when they get out.

“I am tired,” Bucky says, not hiding his displeasure, “and my very warm pillow fucked off to be a noble bitch.”

Steve snorts and very gently sweeps Bucky into his arms. Bucky doesn’t even grumble, just lays his head on Steve’s shoulder, relaxing into his arms. His eyes are already closed, and he’s trembling slightly.

“Wanted to save you some trouble,” Steve says softly. “Knew they’d have questions.”

“Noble bitch,” Bucky reiterates. He slits one eye open. “They’ll still have questions. Will probably have questions all into next year, knowing Stark. We’ll handle it later.”

Steve perks up at that casual _we. _ Bucky huffs a laugh, but it’s faint and he’s tired, and Steve walks faster towards the bedroom.

He lays Bucky gently on the bed and strips him, waiting only long enough to shuck his own clothes before joining him. Bucky latches onto him immediately, shoving his face into Steve’s neck and wrapping all four limbs around him like the world’s sweetest octopus.

“Wore you out, didn’t I?” Steve says, and he can’t quite keep the animal satisfaction out of his voice, but mostly, it’s concern.

“You did. Wasn’t complaining.” He pulls back just enough to look at Steve. “Know I joke all the time about dying on your dick, but you ain’t actually gonna kill me with your cock. Feel free to try harder though. I’ll be your, uh, willing victim.”

Steve’s too damn spent for his dick to even think of getting hard, but in any other situation, it would be swelling already.

“Yeah?” He kisses Bucky chastely and tucks his face back into his neck. “I’ll do that, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s one more part to the series. Just porn – actual werewolf porn this time. Keep an eye out for that!


End file.
